Pride

this poem may not happen today, just
look at the sky
the province is burning from the inside out the
sun on the sidewalk is orange from the smoke
even in this town so close to the edge

so close that people trip over it
(the edge that is)
routinely and fall forever
waving good-bye as they go “Good-
bye, falling into oblivion was the least I could do.”

it’s a Saturday in August­
it’s Pride and fireworks
thousands of people in the park, waiting
there are horse cops in the neighbourhood
and cops on Denman with assault rifles
(very unCanadian)

don’t piss spit puke or shit in the backseat of my cruiser
that’s how the cops spoke to us
when we were kids and hung out in the projects
there’s probably still a bag of acid
hidden there beneath a hedge

Gay Pride and fireworks an
F-18 just flew over, low
so we all could feel the thrust

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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