My wheels are in the shop getting winterized.
It’s col-l-l-ld, and I was headed across town.
The streetcar beckoned …

O you intrepids; you wild and wooly,
cycling your way through winter cities; I love you.
May the wind be always at your back,
may the mini-van people make way for you
and may you reach your destinations.

I see you through the window rolling by,
you through the window rolling by,
window rolling by …
I see you, through the window.

Hello, hello … how are you?

Queen Street West is such a beautiful trip in every weather.
It’s a cold one; button up.
I met a woman at Queen & Yonge …
she wasn’t sure if the Queen streetcar went as far as St. Joseph’s hospital.
We all, also waiting, assured her it did, and she was relieved to hear it.
She and I leaned together, against the middle by the back door,
keeping each other company; ma’salaam.

“Where are you getting out –? ”
“Just past the bridge –” …

“At home, in my country, it is 32ºc today –”

Thank you. It is so good to smile.
It is so good to be smiled upon.
Keep warm, keep smiling.

“What next, Les?” … he might say; “I don’t know, Robin.”

Nobody knows, for sure.

That’s the beauty of it.

Waiting in the form of readiness: goalie stance, defender of an empty net. There’s always more than one game being played…

Both coaches pinned poppies to their jackets, hockey-night in Canada on the eve of remembrance day. Last night the cameras looked for veterans in the crowd…

“The Battle of Alberta” – Edmonton Oilers and Calgary Flames. Two Canadian teams meant we didn’t have to hear that other anthem before the first face-off at centre-ice. To hell with “…bombs bursting in air…” and the psychotic reassurance some patriots get from it.  The crowd sang “…our home and native land” instead. Our reassurance
comes from a play on words. Let us bow our heads…

Moments of silence pass so quickly, action resumes.

A puck has location but no size…