You are there.

Even though I can’t see you anymore, you are there.

So, I keep my eyes shut. And keep you close.

We’re staring up at the stars. You say that you are bored. I say that it’s okay to be bored. And that the stars probably feel the same way about us.

A punch in my shoulder then you lean into me.

Light flickers on and off and on and off. A steady pattern. Left to right, left to right.

Not silence, but something like silence follows the lights.

A vacuum from a closing door followed by the air shift- ssssssssshp and full stop.

It sounds like a chase happening. Or sentence being cut off mid breath.

Or did the sound come first, a roaring, like crowds screaming at a baseball game.

A wave, then it passes.

I remember baseball. And the Skydome. And I remember thinking that this is the best, this is the best way to spend a day.

The breeze lifts the hair on the right side of my head.

You, me, a beach towel. And that argumentative seagull hovering nearby.

My dad told that joke about a dead seagull on the beach. A son asks about the bird. The Dad tells him the bird died and went to heaven. Kid comments, did God throw it back down here?

You don’t see a lot of dead seagulls. Maybe drowning is more common.

I smell flowers and bread and water.

Water? How could that be? And metal grating on metal? Strange.

There’s never enough time in the day. Seems like.

Seems like … we are about to leave. My keys in my pocket, you checking your hair. Where are we going?

Above are clouds; below is my bench. Around me people shift and talk and dammit some kid keeps screaming over there … so I focus on the breeze.

Sitting here reminds me of something.



Her eyes were on fire.

Blinking didn’t bring any relief and the rocking of the subway car was adding nausea to the mix.

Vodka was a bad choice she thought in soft fuzzy focus, wrapped in barbed razor wire.

Gin, and less of it, would’ve been better.

The car finally made a stop.

She stared out the window and mused.

Public spaces, subway cars, parks, stadiums, lobbies – they all moved with similar tempo.

People go left, people go right, stand up, sit down, and keep on moving.

Sea sickening really.

What time is it?

A thought nagged at the edge of her awareness.

The sliding outside didn’t help.

Lights smearing past by the sudden lurch of the car.

A newsstand, a TTC sign, some dude sipping a coffee.

And then it hit.

‘Wheres my phone?’