art-time-collective

The moment requires your constant attention.

Road signs are standardized throughout the province—

Childhood streets in unfamiliar settings.

It’s best not to let that false sense of direction

Become a false sense of security.

*

The next fifteen kilometres are notorious

for deer running into open traffic.

At 120 kilometres an hour,

A collision would spare them

what the future has in store.

*

Don’t be so quick to reprimand these creatures.

The only thing they can look forward to

Is another city that clings to the map,

boasting an oversized monument to the mundane.

This is where you’ll be spending your night.

*

What little hope the weather spares this ghastly town,

The casinos snatch up with gluttonous fingers.

This is the sort of town where you can rest assured

That the alarm clock your motel is missing

has been pawned down the street for a midnight gamble.

*

There are mice living in the ventilation.

Try not to think about these things.

Home is not a day’s drive away.

You’d be racing your own shadow.

Tonight, all dreams flow into the Arctic Ocean.

Filed under: verse