Sunday, June 21, 2009


Sitting on a bench in Centennial Park
a small stream of water whistles near
right out to the bay
tiny wavelets on the rocky shore.

I could smell, see
only peace
quiet this morning.

Hi,” a dirty hand appears
inches from my nose.
I look up into blue eyes that
challenge until the hand is shaken.

I walked a long way.
Orillia by Rama, to Toronto,
" he says
"And then back here.
I walked that whole way
,” he says

I’m Floyd by the way,
and who are you?,
" he asks
I used to sell stoves and appliances
That was the last job I had,
” he says

I have a degree you know.
Finance. I have a Masters actually,
” he says
I graduated, you know.
Magna Cum Laude,
” he says

And after grad I worked at a bank,
for Royal, actually.
” he says
For twenty years.
Then they told me to take a hike
.” He says.

I got another job
But things got bad,
" he says
"And they told me to take a hike.
So I did,
” he says.

In an hour he’s gone.
I stretch and sigh,
reaching for relief
that doesn't come.

As he shambles off,
his back moves from side to side
in rhythm
with his arms and legs.

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