Easter Weekend

A noisy Thursday a dog-dead Friday
Dundas in rubble the bars closed for repairs
in the Azores today people go to whalers' chapels
I guess (I just read all of Moby Dick)
stenciled price tags on two whole windows of black shoes
men stand on the right & dainty ladies teeter left

Timmy Ho's like McDonalds open all these hours
Chinatown hops
I put yellow pastry on a yellow plastic tray with yellow tongs
what would we do without our colours?
Construction the colour of Easter eggs
Taoism the ratkiller
Turkish movie, inane upholstery
I buy tickets for Guy and Alison who buy me dinner
(Hi Manfred) beef noodles and a ride home

These nights are empty nights
something genital crawls in the fridge
but life wears 10,000 pairs of underwear
some frilly news pictures of Philippine crucifixions
I drink not much to the resurrection
my nephew in the holy land with a home hardware hammer
miracles & beheadings & all that sand
who wouldn't want something better
than fucking stucco my stiff futon
circling around nothing
I cultivate my inner blob time to drop

Saturday, I go uptown to catch
the opera simulcast I couldn't stop bleeding
pressure up through the 40-ft roof
sound cutting out the sound of old farts
leaves lay all around & swept
give us habit not happiness
distractions of the town
blue night white gown
overwhelmed by shame and fear
she washes to receive her lover

So I walk down to Dory's for brownies and a break, get brownies and a book
then "on again" to more songs of the ghetto
But what's Hitler got to do with Jesus?
They both had dirty Yiddish names
(Hi Anne and Ruth and Karen and Gail and Jan
Mom's friends)
After Evan and I talk we liked the ode to joy and drums
and Elvis "In the ghetto"
my kitchen we eat cheese and apples

Sunday it's too nice so Ideal for coffee and a walk.
In the doorway tiles of the shoe store
see a compass star pointing inward

Afternoon alone then
after noodles we strike the show. Useless cable lasso
(Bye Evan and Dad and Mom drives me)
Home where Gene Wilder sings too
stop it you're such a tickle-tease you know I'm super-passionate
Late, I candy myself in sweet smelling alcohol.

Monday, I wake in my honeycomb.
Maria Callas sings. 90 years since Vimy
& 6 blown up Kandahar
The intoxicating dream
bruised from all this sitting
On the phone Ruth says the schedule will work out
I eat fried eggs sweet potatoes and toast
and something I never believe in, happiness, returns
Happy Easter "and happy Passover" the radio amends
How ecumenical! Maria, je veux vivre.