the ᕆ in montreal

walking on saint laurent
a few blocks long
pavement everywhere
quiet and long
one two or three people
passed by

carrying a poster
of a half naked lady

feeling pretty damn good
and have been all day
the beatles, the clash, ratatat,
bob dylan, charles bukowski,
me first and the gimme gimmes,
and mos def
have been my
companions all day

wearing leather mitts
given to me by my mother

all the buildings are more
interesting, older and
hold more tradition
and the churches are everywhere
and a few dog shits
along some of the the
some-dark-streets

with my freshly laundered
jeans and shirt and my
boxing day sale jacket

alone and a guy asks for a light
as if he knew i smoke
"merci monsieur"
"your welcome buddy"
maybe i should have learned french?
and i light one with him and walk again
one block after a line up
for a club

most people don't know i have
nail clippers in my left pocket

as the clash comes on
i can hear people laughing
having fun and enjoying the time
and i think this city is
one of the best
makes me want to write
even play the guitar

is it the fur on the coats
or the high heels of the girls?

whatever it is seems artistic
and the people just know
and the best part is:
it rubs off of them
even if you are not artistic
makes you want to be

and

after all

leaonard cohen, mordechai richler,
arcade fire, the best hockey team,
romeo dallaire, lousie dudek, naomi klein,
ryan larkin, irving layton,
yann martel, sam roberts,

and other

writers and poets and artists and athletes
were born in this city