Monday, October 18, 2004

Last call in Auburn, beneath Calgary Tower

A woman wets her finger and sculpts my
left eyebrow, another reminds me of why
I broke up with my ex-girlfriend -- That's
a reductive rumour, I say. You told me
yourself, she says.
There are tasty martinis and the crisp
leather burgundy coat wrapped tightly around
a poet's shoulders. A pact is reached, that
if we break up with our current partners,
our next ones will be older and
established or a doctor or lawyer. A visual
artist wearing a military shirt
describes a piece at Truck Gallery: a hundred
butterflies slightly vibrating on pins,
so that the field appears to be shimmering
with their lively wings.

1 Comments:

Blogger novidavid said...

"A pact is reached, that
if we break up with our current partners,
our next ones will be older and
established or a doctor or lawyer."

So that's the secret of succession, eh? I have often wondered where I went wrong with the relationship thing. The career thing too. It makes me wish there'd been etiquette classes in Junior High. They might have saved me several wrong turns in life. Not the least of which was forgetting to adhere to the various rules of success. Instead, I have a kind of anti-success: regression

2:09 AM  

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