Vancouver (written 11-07-06)

At last,

There is finally something to fight for.
Never used to be that way.
Everything used to be rusted, decayed, and rotting from
Tin-can bones.
Splashing in muddy London puddles and gutters.

That’s not the way things are now.

They are clean and sterile and
Even the crackheads exhibit a warped decorum.
God bless the dust in their veins,
Cos they stay sweet and succulent,
Mashing their marshmallow gums together
As death wanders past.

But I digress.

I am back and surrounded by the fresh woodland,
The crystalline mountain peaks,
The nickel-plated ocean
That gallops between rocky islets.

And thrusting out from its soft scales -
A city of glass.

and

home

I hope.