Pictures, Poem

Rue Dorion, my street (the yellow leg hangs from my balcony)

Quebec City, view from the diner

Asking for directions

Quebec City

My first French poem, refrigerator-style

Listen:
You can hear soft wind blowing
among tall fir trees on Vancouver Island
it is the same wind we knew
whispering along Côte des Neiges
on the island of Montreal
when we were lovers and had no money

(from A Handful of Earth by Al Purdy)

Decided to stop into a used bookstore by the school last week. There were two men there, the owners, or one of them. Tiny place; I couldn't help but listen in when they talked about women, love, quinoa, the snow we were expecting...and they were playing a Leonard Cohen album. Very romantic. Very Montreal. To me, anyway. Bought a collection of Canadian poetry (Margaret Atwood, Leonard Cohen, etc.) and they gave me 50c off on the condition that I return to tell them what I thought. I went back a week later. "Hello, dear," said the owner. "It's brilliant!" I told him.