Step out for a smoke. There’s an old guy outside smoking on the motel porch next door and I ask him if he’s here hunting. it’s a no brainer as he’s head to toe camo and he says “ya, a bit“.
The night air out here in the mountains is a crisp glass of water for the lungs and every diamond star has carved its own perfect hole in the night sky.
I ask him if hes got anything yet and he grins and shakes his, “hell no” with a chuckle “sure been nice though”
That’s a style right there. we laugh and small talk about the grandness of it all for a bit over a smoke and a beer then turn he turns and retires as I finish my butt. “Take care” is all he says as he leaves.
When I climb I climb for the top but ill be dammed if I’m going to let not getting there ruin my day. To try again is sublime. Another kick at a spectacular can that many never even consider to dream of.
It’s the same when I ride, anyone who’s ever walked by a skate park has seen the kid there flipping out and throwing his skate or bike and yelling obscenities because he didn’t land the trick. That’s not me, not ever. Win lose or draw ridings riding just like climbing or making out with a girl. Its all good.
Which brings us to style again. This style in particular. It’s not an easy one to master and its not for everyone, to be able to see thru this moments bullshit and keep a cool head. To appreciate. Truly, the beauty , the lesson, the magic behind every moment. So your down to your last 3 bucks with your head behind a dumpster high as fuck on crack and life sucks. What did you learn? That sucks don’t do it dummy! You just learned a lesson and if your smart you’ll be proud and move on and learn more lessons.
Then, when summit day turns into a tent climbing session you may just learn to make a truly excellent soupy pasta casserole with shredded beef jerky. File that one for later you just learned something new.
Super 8 motel desk girls are a notoriously soft touch if you really need a blanket tonight on the side of the road. But not always so keep that one when you get it.
And for gods sake now that you know you may need a blanket go buy yourself a good sleeping bag as soon as you can afford one. That’s part of the style, a little investment and or preparation go a long way.
Buy a pocket knife, it’s a million tools in one. And when the import beer you bought to impress the girl turns out to not twist off? Learn to pop it with your pocket knife.
Do you know what the big dipper looks like? The two stars that make up the side furthest from the handle point almost directly at the north star about 3 fists away from the top of the dipper. Presto your able to orient at night anywhere in the world.
Sometimes things may really seem to suck. I know I’ve been guilty of it, grumpy bitter mean and spiteful when things aren’t going exactly right. That’s where if you’ve been paying attention you will knuckle yourself on the head and remember the style. Fix what you can, accept what you can’t apologize to whoever you may have pissed off. Move on and learn or be doomed to repeat.
Ask directions. And don’t be shy about it. Even if you don’t think you need them you it cant hurt to check against what you think you know. Plus you just met someone.
Share. Food and drink. Money, your bed your life. No more than you can spare and don’t be shy about saying no. But if you can spare a dime do it. Sometimes it comes back and let me tell you it feels really good when it does. When a dude chases you down in the ferry terminal, gives you a twenty and says “this is for the fiver you gave me 3 years ago. Thanks man.”
Style
Wear it with pride
Learn to cook, everywhere and everything.
Chicks dig it.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
another love story
I fell in love once. Or twice....
Ok, you got me. I fall in love at the drop of a hat, and this is a perfect example.
i was hitch hiking south one spring solo. at the time this wasn't really ordinary for me, i had hitch hiked south from dawson the year before with my tattoo apprentice and sawmilling and general all round buddy Andrew Treibel to go climbing in squamish. This year i was on my own, first long distance trip solo on the thumb.
Epic times really!
When me and andy went we got stuck in hundred mile house and caved in, bought bus tickets south and so missed getting out in cache creek to stretch our legs. Not me this time. I got out of a car in cache creek and a tumbleweed tumbled past in the scorching sun. Real lazy like...after coming from snow and ice all winter it kind of blew my mind and i gawked then pointed and said "tumbleweed!" to no one.
Spences bridge was the next stop and my ride there was a bald redneck guy who said he only gave me a ride cause i was bald and white. Couldnt be too bad with credentials like that by his reasoning.
He was driving that canyon road fast and cursing slow traffic and we were bullshitting bout who and what we were and from where till i asked if he burnt reefer.
"Hell ya boy!" was the reply.
So we burnt one and he went polar opposite. slowed to 20 under the speed limit and began to curse and finger the drivers piling up behind us. Pretty damm funny i thought and then we turned of into spences bridge. right onto the bridge actually. and dropped me of o the far side of the river in old town on the main drag there. Pointed south and said the road ran right back to the highway just down there.
Turn, look south. High noon. Or thereabouts, shoulder your pack, rudiculously heavy with camping gear, clothes, rock rack, shoes and rope, water bottle and sundry stuffs.
Take it in, a sunbaked dirt main street. Wooden side walks. False front stores and goddam tumbleweeds.
Crazy redneck in a blue chev pickup waving and cackling into the distance.
I settle my house on my back and take a couple steps.
Then it happens, a girl steps out of the saloon onto the board walk and turns my way.
Her hands are full with grocery bags and a small child is strapped to her side hanging over a shoulder.She has so may bags in both hands the muscles in her shoulders are clearly visible but she looks solid with the load and ready to travel. there is no denying she's beautiful. A classic look that never gets old. Tall and dark with long dark curls and dark brown eyes. wearing a simple slip of a dress and sandals and groceries and child.
She looks at me, up then down and up again.
Smiles and says "you look like your packing almost as heavy as me. you should come in for a meal."
Right now i should mention that im an idiot.
I had eaten A&W in cache creek just up the road. and filled my canteen. and was determined to push thru to squamish that night.
I told her id just eaten. she said "its hot out maybe you should come in for a drink?"
I told her my canteen was full and thanked her for the hospitality but i had miles to make.
I am an idiot.
It gets worse, as i walk past the swinging double doors to the place i see inside behind the counter, drying a glass her double. Twin sister or or mother or cousin or unrelated doppleganger whichever it may have been i walked past and kept on going.
They were beatiful and friendly and i kick myself every time i think of them.
Idiot
Made squamish that night, got of the bus at the climbers campsite, first campsite full of freaks the mohawk playing gituar jumps up and shouts at me. "hey JOE!! your moms in the site next to us! welcome home!"
Life carries on and that girl stayed with me. i told this story to a friend on an epic journey once and we stopped in spences bridge but the saloon was a cafe now and no girl was in sight so we crossed the bridge and fell in love with the red headed firecracker at the log cabin pub named shale.
Ok, you got me. I fall in love at the drop of a hat, and this is a perfect example.
i was hitch hiking south one spring solo. at the time this wasn't really ordinary for me, i had hitch hiked south from dawson the year before with my tattoo apprentice and sawmilling and general all round buddy Andrew Treibel to go climbing in squamish. This year i was on my own, first long distance trip solo on the thumb.
Epic times really!
When me and andy went we got stuck in hundred mile house and caved in, bought bus tickets south and so missed getting out in cache creek to stretch our legs. Not me this time. I got out of a car in cache creek and a tumbleweed tumbled past in the scorching sun. Real lazy like...after coming from snow and ice all winter it kind of blew my mind and i gawked then pointed and said "tumbleweed!" to no one.
Spences bridge was the next stop and my ride there was a bald redneck guy who said he only gave me a ride cause i was bald and white. Couldnt be too bad with credentials like that by his reasoning.
He was driving that canyon road fast and cursing slow traffic and we were bullshitting bout who and what we were and from where till i asked if he burnt reefer.
"Hell ya boy!" was the reply.
So we burnt one and he went polar opposite. slowed to 20 under the speed limit and began to curse and finger the drivers piling up behind us. Pretty damm funny i thought and then we turned of into spences bridge. right onto the bridge actually. and dropped me of o the far side of the river in old town on the main drag there. Pointed south and said the road ran right back to the highway just down there.
Turn, look south. High noon. Or thereabouts, shoulder your pack, rudiculously heavy with camping gear, clothes, rock rack, shoes and rope, water bottle and sundry stuffs.
Take it in, a sunbaked dirt main street. Wooden side walks. False front stores and goddam tumbleweeds.
Crazy redneck in a blue chev pickup waving and cackling into the distance.
I settle my house on my back and take a couple steps.
Then it happens, a girl steps out of the saloon onto the board walk and turns my way.
Her hands are full with grocery bags and a small child is strapped to her side hanging over a shoulder.She has so may bags in both hands the muscles in her shoulders are clearly visible but she looks solid with the load and ready to travel. there is no denying she's beautiful. A classic look that never gets old. Tall and dark with long dark curls and dark brown eyes. wearing a simple slip of a dress and sandals and groceries and child.
She looks at me, up then down and up again.
Smiles and says "you look like your packing almost as heavy as me. you should come in for a meal."
Right now i should mention that im an idiot.
I had eaten A&W in cache creek just up the road. and filled my canteen. and was determined to push thru to squamish that night.
I told her id just eaten. she said "its hot out maybe you should come in for a drink?"
I told her my canteen was full and thanked her for the hospitality but i had miles to make.
I am an idiot.
It gets worse, as i walk past the swinging double doors to the place i see inside behind the counter, drying a glass her double. Twin sister or or mother or cousin or unrelated doppleganger whichever it may have been i walked past and kept on going.
They were beatiful and friendly and i kick myself every time i think of them.
Idiot
Made squamish that night, got of the bus at the climbers campsite, first campsite full of freaks the mohawk playing gituar jumps up and shouts at me. "hey JOE!! your moms in the site next to us! welcome home!"
Life carries on and that girl stayed with me. i told this story to a friend on an epic journey once and we stopped in spences bridge but the saloon was a cafe now and no girl was in sight so we crossed the bridge and fell in love with the red headed firecracker at the log cabin pub named shale.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
shoo that little dutch boy with the finger away from the leak in my minds dyke
see the stream of ideas begin to spray out the hole, eating away at the wall
growing and gaining strenght with each passing moment
feel the winds of change gather at my back
filling sails stretched taut on the mast of my body my spars spread right to the fingertips
grasp the helm firm and point my bow towards the vast unknown
leap into the stream and let it carry me to the sea
run thru the fields and leap cross the ditches
chasing the jackrabbits of inspiration
take a compass bearing on the highest point of the horizon
and gain elevation with every step
till the world spreads its pearls of wisdom across the horizon
to do what with i know not
see the stream of ideas begin to spray out the hole, eating away at the wall
growing and gaining strenght with each passing moment
feel the winds of change gather at my back
filling sails stretched taut on the mast of my body my spars spread right to the fingertips
grasp the helm firm and point my bow towards the vast unknown
leap into the stream and let it carry me to the sea
run thru the fields and leap cross the ditches
chasing the jackrabbits of inspiration
take a compass bearing on the highest point of the horizon
and gain elevation with every step
till the world spreads its pearls of wisdom across the horizon
to do what with i know not
smart things stupid things and just things people said to me
ive had some pretty smart people say some pretty stupid things to me.
and some dumb motherfuckers say some pretty smart things too.
thats what lifes about i figure, seeing what there is in front of you and never mind the source.
sometimes things get said that bare repeating thats for sure, and im going to try and recall a couple
right now, for you.
morgan jean, the bmx machine. A simple man of simple wants and few words.
still a blonde hair blue eye farmboy of doom on wheels after a full decade of riding together. " want to know the meaning of life?"
"want what you do joey, and do what you want. you'll be fine"
Silence, for hours. he can do that like that.
MJ quit racing when he was 14 because it was getting in the way of his love of riding.
On pain, "Pain is how you can tell your alive." "right now im super alive!"
"Running out of pop joey." Pop is what makes a little bike go up. Running out means time to go for a soda. Put some pop back!
Morgan Jean firmly believes that a beer left untended is a beer unloved and so undeserved. his guideline is ten seconds roughly. he's so good at rescueing these unloved soldiers that his friends all call it morgan jeaning a beer. or mixed drink. or what have you.
Brian Starling. welder and fisherman. good man alround said "It all comes out in the wash"
meaning ill buy beer today, i'll buy beer tommorow. your turn will come around and even if it doesnt it'll still come out in the wash and we'll still need beer.
J. berg boss cousin and climbing partner. "Roll it up motherfucker!"
Evil wop. pete maggoria. "old age and treachery will overcome youth and vigour every time."
obvious what that one means.
Also, "Too fat to fly-Too windy to pile rocks" Meaning time to go for a soda. Or beer. Or whiskey.
Also: use this first. then that...and then....only then use those. pointing first at the head, then trigger finger and finally balls. Im pretty sure he meant think your way out before you shoot your way out. And only after those options are exhausted can you fuck it all up.
Boss. Norm Wicketts on fuck-ups at work. "Make it go away"
didn't care how just as long as when the sun came up whatever it is was, wasn't.
Ron Gallagher. Remembered and would tell stories of when norm was a wet behind the ears kid.
He taught me to call in feeling well if it was that nice out. Norman never forgave him for teaching me that before he died. Norman and i and the boys had a rip roaring time at rons wake right down to the fistfight outside with a sponging junkie relative just there to see what he could swipe.
His daughter shelly danced on the table with me and was the spitting image of her father when push came to shove with the unwelcome guest. made me feel right at home giving him the bums rush.
Every time i look sideways at a person and say "mischief?" with a question mark i swear its him getting his favorite word out through me.
Captain Dan from the movie Forest Gump. Lashed to the mast screaming at the storm "Is That All You Got?!?" Jarrett tries to kick me every time i scream that one into the weather. It has bit us a couple times but its never been enough to wash the deck of us.
and last but not least. i forget who said this but its good
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
and some dumb motherfuckers say some pretty smart things too.
thats what lifes about i figure, seeing what there is in front of you and never mind the source.
sometimes things get said that bare repeating thats for sure, and im going to try and recall a couple
right now, for you.
morgan jean, the bmx machine. A simple man of simple wants and few words.
still a blonde hair blue eye farmboy of doom on wheels after a full decade of riding together. " want to know the meaning of life?"
"want what you do joey, and do what you want. you'll be fine"
Silence, for hours. he can do that like that.
MJ quit racing when he was 14 because it was getting in the way of his love of riding.
On pain, "Pain is how you can tell your alive." "right now im super alive!"
"Running out of pop joey." Pop is what makes a little bike go up. Running out means time to go for a soda. Put some pop back!
Morgan Jean firmly believes that a beer left untended is a beer unloved and so undeserved. his guideline is ten seconds roughly. he's so good at rescueing these unloved soldiers that his friends all call it morgan jeaning a beer. or mixed drink. or what have you.
Brian Starling. welder and fisherman. good man alround said "It all comes out in the wash"
meaning ill buy beer today, i'll buy beer tommorow. your turn will come around and even if it doesnt it'll still come out in the wash and we'll still need beer.
J. berg boss cousin and climbing partner. "Roll it up motherfucker!"
Evil wop. pete maggoria. "old age and treachery will overcome youth and vigour every time."
obvious what that one means.
Also, "Too fat to fly-Too windy to pile rocks" Meaning time to go for a soda. Or beer. Or whiskey.
Also: use this first. then that...and then....only then use those. pointing first at the head, then trigger finger and finally balls. Im pretty sure he meant think your way out before you shoot your way out. And only after those options are exhausted can you fuck it all up.
Boss. Norm Wicketts on fuck-ups at work. "Make it go away"
didn't care how just as long as when the sun came up whatever it is was, wasn't.
Ron Gallagher. Remembered and would tell stories of when norm was a wet behind the ears kid.
He taught me to call in feeling well if it was that nice out. Norman never forgave him for teaching me that before he died. Norman and i and the boys had a rip roaring time at rons wake right down to the fistfight outside with a sponging junkie relative just there to see what he could swipe.
His daughter shelly danced on the table with me and was the spitting image of her father when push came to shove with the unwelcome guest. made me feel right at home giving him the bums rush.
Every time i look sideways at a person and say "mischief?" with a question mark i swear its him getting his favorite word out through me.
Captain Dan from the movie Forest Gump. Lashed to the mast screaming at the storm "Is That All You Got?!?" Jarrett tries to kick me every time i scream that one into the weather. It has bit us a couple times but its never been enough to wash the deck of us.
and last but not least. i forget who said this but its good
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
chapter 2
an idea is only so good without action. actually its no good without action. ideas come and ideas go and if you dont act neither will an idea.
So the cabin at the end of the road began as a pile of leftoer lumber and house parts. We discussed it and ideas were tossed round then out but the action would have to wait till spring. The trip where the idea was born was the last one for the summer and as we left storms and snow and ice descended on our little end of the road paradise.
J. berg, the jarrett in charge with the piles of wood is a dynamo. one spring day while discussing the possibility of the road being open into the mountains declared he had all the parts piled up and was going to start cutting and labeling them if i felt like comeing by and helping. well holy shit thats a far sight further into it than i had figured, a couple nights of that and we had a car trailer full of parts and a plan just waiting to spring into action.
When we sprang, it was not a graceful spring. We loaded the car trailer and the death star as full as we dared. 1 full lift of fiberboard sheeting for the roof and walls 2by12 for the floor system 16 inch fabricated wood i beams for the a frame roof sheeting for the floor, doors, windows, nails, glue, all in all we figured about 3000 pounds on that trip alone and no room for shingles.
So the cabin at the end of the road began as a pile of leftoer lumber and house parts. We discussed it and ideas were tossed round then out but the action would have to wait till spring. The trip where the idea was born was the last one for the summer and as we left storms and snow and ice descended on our little end of the road paradise.
J. berg, the jarrett in charge with the piles of wood is a dynamo. one spring day while discussing the possibility of the road being open into the mountains declared he had all the parts piled up and was going to start cutting and labeling them if i felt like comeing by and helping. well holy shit thats a far sight further into it than i had figured, a couple nights of that and we had a car trailer full of parts and a plan just waiting to spring into action.
When we sprang, it was not a graceful spring. We loaded the car trailer and the death star as full as we dared. 1 full lift of fiberboard sheeting for the roof and walls 2by12 for the floor system 16 inch fabricated wood i beams for the a frame roof sheeting for the floor, doors, windows, nails, glue, all in all we figured about 3000 pounds on that trip alone and no room for shingles.
Monday, October 4, 2010
goat
there is a faint tap in my head, a trip, trip, tripping of dainty cloven hooves echoeing one level above my conscious brain. the further west i get, the deeper into this trip the clearer he seems to ring.
he comes and he goes, was gone for a while and like a goat sometimes wasnt welcome when he was here.
i imagine him roaming steel decks and void tank spaces in the barges and ferries where he was born bleating quitely just to here his goaty voice echo.
The goat came to be suddenly, yanked from thin air into existance with one sentence. not even a sentence, an expletive. "Hey goat boy!" from across the shop floor a couple years into my shipbuilding career.
I had done some steel work proven myself among the old men with scars and mustaches and dinge and stories. a few of them took real liking to me and amongst them my first friend and coworker in this tribe of shipbuilders was Brian Starling. he introduced me as the kid. "Hey this is the kid i been telling you about!"
He wasn't around when Brent johnstone called me goat boy on my second morning as an aluminum fabricator for the provinces flop of a fast catamaran project. but enough people where there that it made it back to him. Hes still pissed 15 years later that he didn't get to nick name me. but he didn't. brent did. and would live to regret it almost instantly.
I've never been really good at the snappy comeback thing and always kinda shy but it was obvious he was fishing and i had to say something or forever be trod upon. still it was a suprise to me even when i piped up with a question.
"Are you calling me goat boy because you know i'm from saltspring and your too chickenshit to call me a sheep fucker?" just 22 and not stupid, jaw drops and stuttering begins. Goat boy is born.
It stuck like glue. i was goat boy for years, then the boy got dropped. bosses would introduce new guys to old guys they would be working with. you are with brian starling, you, pete maggoria. you go work with steve sharp. and you can get in the manbasket with the goat!
startled sideways looks, questioning voices. "umm....the goat?" which is where i would be expected to go baaahhhhh...
Poor brent, he was a prick to everyone and he tried with me but i had him from then on. I really did feel sorry for him from time to time because he obviously never met goats before. I know goats.
We had milk goats when i was a boy on saltspring. They are good people for the most part and pretty much anything they do to convince people otherwise is just in the nature of the beast.
goats will survive on anything but they seem to actually relish the stuff others wouldnt know how to approach. roses. goats love to eat roses, and thistles! but roses never seem to get grown for food. so when the goat eats every last rose bush down to the mean spiky stem in the dirt someones gonna be mad.
goats like to see around them and can climb very well, hooves on car roofs are never appreciated...
likewise eating clothes of the line, which brings us to another goaty point. getting mad at a goat is fine. if you like being mad. kicking a goat is a sure way to break your foot.
So i lived a goaty existance it wasn't hard. the shipyards are a great spot for a goat. we worked hard and we played hard and sometimes the two would overlap to the point where living and working where the same and playing was something you did at both.
The night i got my horns was like that.
he comes and he goes, was gone for a while and like a goat sometimes wasnt welcome when he was here.
i imagine him roaming steel decks and void tank spaces in the barges and ferries where he was born bleating quitely just to here his goaty voice echo.
The goat came to be suddenly, yanked from thin air into existance with one sentence. not even a sentence, an expletive. "Hey goat boy!" from across the shop floor a couple years into my shipbuilding career.
I had done some steel work proven myself among the old men with scars and mustaches and dinge and stories. a few of them took real liking to me and amongst them my first friend and coworker in this tribe of shipbuilders was Brian Starling. he introduced me as the kid. "Hey this is the kid i been telling you about!"
He wasn't around when Brent johnstone called me goat boy on my second morning as an aluminum fabricator for the provinces flop of a fast catamaran project. but enough people where there that it made it back to him. Hes still pissed 15 years later that he didn't get to nick name me. but he didn't. brent did. and would live to regret it almost instantly.
I've never been really good at the snappy comeback thing and always kinda shy but it was obvious he was fishing and i had to say something or forever be trod upon. still it was a suprise to me even when i piped up with a question.
"Are you calling me goat boy because you know i'm from saltspring and your too chickenshit to call me a sheep fucker?" just 22 and not stupid, jaw drops and stuttering begins. Goat boy is born.
It stuck like glue. i was goat boy for years, then the boy got dropped. bosses would introduce new guys to old guys they would be working with. you are with brian starling, you, pete maggoria. you go work with steve sharp. and you can get in the manbasket with the goat!
startled sideways looks, questioning voices. "umm....the goat?" which is where i would be expected to go baaahhhhh...
Poor brent, he was a prick to everyone and he tried with me but i had him from then on. I really did feel sorry for him from time to time because he obviously never met goats before. I know goats.
We had milk goats when i was a boy on saltspring. They are good people for the most part and pretty much anything they do to convince people otherwise is just in the nature of the beast.
goats will survive on anything but they seem to actually relish the stuff others wouldnt know how to approach. roses. goats love to eat roses, and thistles! but roses never seem to get grown for food. so when the goat eats every last rose bush down to the mean spiky stem in the dirt someones gonna be mad.
goats like to see around them and can climb very well, hooves on car roofs are never appreciated...
likewise eating clothes of the line, which brings us to another goaty point. getting mad at a goat is fine. if you like being mad. kicking a goat is a sure way to break your foot.
So i lived a goaty existance it wasn't hard. the shipyards are a great spot for a goat. we worked hard and we played hard and sometimes the two would overlap to the point where living and working where the same and playing was something you did at both.
The night i got my horns was like that.
Friday, October 1, 2010
steep as hell
We tiptoe in the shadows of giants
Steel claws bite the snows crust
Skirting headwall after headwall
On ever steeper slopes
The sun beating down and reflecting, searing flesh on the bone
...Snow blinding fear seeping through
Our armour of experience feels pitifully thin up here
Standing tall on front points, pretending everything is alright
With the glacial wall standing taller
Right in our faces, close enough to kiss
If the giant should cough
Shrug his cape of snow off in response to the suns caresses
These fleas who are we would disappear
Like a waking dream
In this steep as hell world
We face our dreams
And make love to our fears
Steel claws bite the snows crust
Skirting headwall after headwall
On ever steeper slopes
The sun beating down and reflecting, searing flesh on the bone
...Snow blinding fear seeping through
Our armour of experience feels pitifully thin up here
Standing tall on front points, pretending everything is alright
With the glacial wall standing taller
Right in our faces, close enough to kiss
If the giant should cough
Shrug his cape of snow off in response to the suns caresses
These fleas who are we would disappear
Like a waking dream
In this steep as hell world
We face our dreams
And make love to our fears
sitting in a motel room with the ghost of tom waits
sunset outside thru the window and deepening fall colours
remembering the flavours of montreal next to this erie canal
flavours and aromas and textures and long shivering kisses
trucks lit up like christmas rumble past as my fish and chip dinner settles
another layer of my self peels back
landing softly on cat like feet and slinking into the night
and i decide i like whats been exposed
its got a whiskey and smoke flavour
a real patina, the blues practically seep from this place
sunset outside thru the window and deepening fall colours
remembering the flavours of montreal next to this erie canal
flavours and aromas and textures and long shivering kisses
trucks lit up like christmas rumble past as my fish and chip dinner settles
another layer of my self peels back
landing softly on cat like feet and slinking into the night
and i decide i like whats been exposed
its got a whiskey and smoke flavour
a real patina, the blues practically seep from this place
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