citywired

I am
damp with the
wet wonder of the November city and I am looking up,
peering over the cloudy soft pillow-white edge
of BC Place on a Saturday night
(Leafs fans in jerseys pass by, howling at the Vancouver skyline)
I peer at the glow of incandescent orange and gloaming blue
I walk, my inside is a dull aching place
due to the replacement
of
bodily fluids with caffeine
a daily occurrence for the past four weeks--
and I walk at a dullard's pace,
breathing in the mist and the orange glow of street lights, city lights
on my way to Pat's to
listen to Stevie Wonder records and to
make him a lampshade out of copper wire and acrylic medium and paper
from the recycling bin
(it's a birthday gift, he needed a lampshade)
and
things are shifting... Stevie Wonder sings maybe your baby
it's makin' him worried
it's makin' me queer
things are beginning, but the ending
is near