Upper
CanLit Village
Under the viaduct, past the lock blockhouse
The road runs - through and beyond beauty;
A road knows not to overstate its usefulness,
Not to bring disfiguring business in its wake.
So, no Canadian Tire, no John Deere dealership
In slick, soldierly machinery mars perfection.
This is peace. You wouldn't understand.
A municipal bylaw states that bicycles
Are allowed, but not skateboards: these tend to
gash
Spontaneity's spark from Heaven's grid. Pity the
angels,
|
|
Sullen and indentured, baseball caps on
backward,
Serving stale ambrosia to puzzled strangers.
Americans and French Canadians are
Welcome here, but not for too long. They might disturb
The seller of rare, first editions, the Royal
Canadian Legion, the faux-Scottish
Hotel bar where the locals sip, shoulders locked,
Arcane, defensive as a game of dominos.
***
|