Vancouver Verse

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Today After Rain

Today after rain
the streets are bare
and smell only of dust.

The ser­vice sta­tion is bro­ken
and the cars sleep like bod­ies of bee­tles
pinned in line by the care­ful
hand of an entomologist.

The sky opens like a cab­i­net
and inside there is blue
but then quickly
clouds move and the door
slams shut. A col­lapse
of black on the ground
and down each street
there is no sound
or move­ment at all.

Somewhere this is art.

Somewhere a place like this
opens and an eye peers in.

Somewhere this is a col­lec­tion
worth pol­ish­ing. A lit­tle red mail­box.
The cor­ner gro­cer. Streets and gut­ter grates.

Somewhere what mat­ters mat­ters,
the sky opens and the world is unique,
peo­ple come out and the neigh­bour­hood
insin­u­ates itself into the present and past.

For a moment it lasts.

For a moment we are common.

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