Mauve It On Over

On a TTC bus.
Notice a guy reading
Carl Honore's great book,
In Praise Of Slowness.
As I'm getting off at my stop
I say to the guy;
"Great book."
"Took me forever to
finish it."

A pessimistic view of
the future would see
us on an embankment
away from flood waters.
Gathered around a camp
fire started by rubbing our
hands together in the noxious
air.
Roasting our free range organic
low fat marshmallows, all
the while singing folk songs
like Stairway To Heaven or
Roxanne.

Silly Love Thongs

I remember being in grade
seven and a guy in grade nine
yelling at me across the field;
"Your epidermis is showing."
I checked my fly, my belt.
I couldn't figure out what he
was talking about.
Nevertheless I felt embarrassed.
I can't recall when I found out
what epidermis was, but I'm sure
I must have felt relieved.

Poem Is Where The Art Is

Here's a poem I wrote to
a friend in Nova Scotia.
She was turning 21 and
the Beer Store workers
in Toronto were on strike.
(See yesterday's post for
more details on the strike.)

Now that you've turned 21
You're entitled to lot's of
legal fun.
Anywhere you can have a beer.
Anywhere that is, but here.
The Beer Store worker's have
walked out.
Causing local beer lovers to pout.
Vodka, Gin, Rum and Rye.
It's enough to make you cry.
On your Birthday raise a
glass to me.
And wish an end to my
parched misery.

My New Law Firm: Nasty, Brutish and Short/Et Tutu Brute?

I was working at a British
style pub back in the Spring
of 85. The employees
of the Beer Store went on strike.
Slowly but surely, the pub depleted
their supply of draught.
Things were tense.
One particularly stressful night
a waiter told me I was working
too slowly. Then she told me to
f off.
The next day she apologized
and we became friends.
Amazing how a bit of profanity
can bring people together.

It's A Measure To Pleat You

Waiting for the shuttle bus to
take me to Ikea.
And waiting.
And waiting.
I turn to the person
next to me and say:
"They must be assembling it."

Buddy Can You Paradigm?

Fun with headlines.
when the G8 ministers came to Toronto
many moons ago, organizers were
not impressed with the status of our
washroom facilities.
The Toronto Sun had the following headline:
"G8 Pooh Pooh Our Washrooms."
I worked at the Sun on a job training program.
At the time there was a government minister
named Monte Kwinter.
I suggested the headline:
"The Kwinter Of Our Discontent."
A reporter at the Sun said:
"You're in the wrong business."
How prescient.

Good Friday, Man

Yesterday, at a Second Cup.
"Yes, sir?"
"Fifteen coffee's,"
"What?"
"Fifteen Coffee's"

"April Fool's!"