Morning on the Spadina Car

Fall, 2001 / No. 6

this day,

emerging is the first very good thing,

finding breath

out of the earth

finding some outdoors through bodies

to spot Ten Editions as it glides by;

there is                                           (I’m guessing)

a book on the shelves in that store,

untouched since me, years ago

I’m trying to feel better than the morning

reading words,

to prove that can still happen

in the middle of ordinary;

grinding Babstock with the

back teeth of my brain—he’s substantial,

takes some work to desiccate

by Nassau I’ve dropped him,

reading faces instead

in the final approach,

readying, bracing

she’s got one of those noses,

the Aphrodite nose on the everyday,

and her sunglasses look expensive,

cushioned there in auburn, ready

for something brighter than now,

brighter than me

by Queen she’s come to resemble

some New York morning hostess,

all wideness and wonder,

and I’m satisfied to de-car

feel the bull

brush my shoulder

on its way to money