On our way to Montreal

Power lines on towers that look like columns
of newsprint. Passing transport trucks box
us in tight. How invigorating,
like we're involved in a greater economy,
a larger scale. We pass a barn that
is a rusted red. And beside it a billboard
as big as the barn, in bright red and yellow.
We pull in to a service station and stare
at the fast food. There's a poster tacked
below the regular features: a special on
gravy, three sizes of gravy. Places like
Whitby and Kingston are the same size as
St. John's. There's new pavement now, and
crisp white striping, like stitches on a
charcoal suit. Orange contruction signs
powered by solar panels. We hit Quebec and
a line of fluorescent cones with heavy rubber
tire bases, a sign that reads TRAVAUX.
There's a man dressed head to foot in
new leather, and boots of bright yellow.
Biker gear, ribbed leather that balloons
at his lower back, he looks like he's wearing
a borrowed scuba suit that doesnt fit him.
Roadsign to St Zotique and St Polycarpe.
Now there are two saints I'd like to meet
and share a chausson aux pomme at Premiere
Moisson.