19 – poet’s song: The Island

Island beckons bestreamed with umbrellaed bicycles, endless breezes,
city forgets itself, beside itself, admires itself, reflects upon what
it is and what it is to become; what is the price of healing in this
place of regeneration; what is the size of being, written in the
sound of the wind in the freshwater sea that laps at your door;
what is the name written in the sand by your toes as we while
away these summer hours; let it all go, let it all go. This is what
turns the wheels as surely as the chain, the spoke, the hub,
each in its place and this part is easy—look out across the water—
that’s the island, that is part of it, part of what makes the city,
separate and still part—just like you and me, beribboned and
streaming in the wind of the making of what is and what will be.

20 – chorus: F**K YOU

That guy is looking at me funny—he just moved all his groceries closer to him—jeez man it’s No Frills fr crissake—he’s looking at me like I’m Chinese and he can’t trust me—goddamn bastard hates me cause I’m Chinese? Hey! I’m Canadian, moron, Fuck you!

Look at that woman—she is looking at me like I am a terrorist—I can tell it—goddamned Arab they call me—utterly unaware I am from India—fuck them.

That guy keeps looking at me like he’s waiting for me to do something—like I’m going to jack his car or something—fuck him—fuck you all …

Each of those guys looking at me … they wish! What a bunch of losers—leave me alone!—I really wish I could walk down the street without losers like that saying stupid things—FUCK OFF!!

I am utterly without hope, without redemption, without friends—I am going to have to start begging to make ends meet—I am worthless and can’t make enough money—I’d like to tell the world to fuck off, but I think it beat me to the punchline.

It all started when the fucking squirrely Puerto Rican guy just laced the Guatemalan guy in the back of the head when the Brazilian guy told the Greek guy the Italian football team was just a bunch of wives for the Germans. Fuk’n’jeez—people get worked up, eh?