Waltz in A-flat major

I recited this poem yesterday in a workshop called "And then I wrote..." with Lynn Harrison and Gregg Lawless. I thought it was appropriate in a bunch of ways. First off, it fit the theme, but we've all been subway buskers at one time or another, too, plus Gregg was in a band called Bloor Station, which is the setting of the poem. And then I wrote...

Waltz in A-flat major
It was one of the waltzes in A-flat major, by Chopin
So said the subway musician, by way of reply
To my asking the name of the piece he had played
That sounded so free, and so open
It seemed that the tracks in the tunnel led straight to the sky.

It was one of those moments when everything just comes together,
Like watching a movie, and yet being part of the scene
Two acquaintances met, just by chance, and shook hands,
And proceeded to talk of the weather
An old woman made gestures to hurry to someone off-screen

Two young lovers played princess and courtier; a girl with her mother
Squealed in delight at the sight of a pup wearing boots
And everyone turned at the sound of the train,
And bunched up behind one another
And made their ways home by an infinite number of routes

It was one of those moments; it ended the way it had started
And yet left a faint hint of something for which I'd been groping
In a moment we live, in a moment we love
In a moment we die, and are parted...
It was one of the waltzes in a-flat major by Chopin

Gettin' Back Home

Well, this has never happened before... I've become a character in a song.

It's a good song, too.

Brenda Neiles wrote it, apparently inspired by a long and mostly quiet drive we took together from Ear Falls, to Winnipeg.

I can't put my feelings about this into words easily.

Just listen... and tell me what you think.

(Right-click on the link, choose "save target as" and download the MP3 to your desktop)

away for a while...

on vacation in British Columbia tall trees towered waves crashed orcas lurked somewhere in the mist a canoe bobbed on familar waves old memories flooded back like the tide pages turned in new used books kayak paddles flashed in the sunlight fireworks bloomed like summer flowers three white bums streaked on a rocky beach ripe cherries stained fingers sweat poured where rock and roll boomed seals poked curious heads through the silver rolling surface a parade grumbled through the local park hippie girls in tank tops with tattoos rode the little island ferry along with a frightened goat old friends had found property on an estuary artworks hung from cedar trees purple-flowering raspberries burst from the bushes the shopping mall had changed a bit there were line-ups at the border the pot smelled sticky and skunky clams and oysters were fresh and free of red tide along one small stretch of shoreline there was mighty fog on the malahat eagles soared and more eagles soared there were white sails among the islets picnic lunch in horsehoe bay snap peas at the farmer's market organic coffee at the roadside plaza starfish on the beach clouds in the sunset moon through the tent screen family memory friends time and space motion exultatation the great simple lift of the great simple gift of the great simple life lived just for this moment this moment this moment this moment this
it is good to come back when it is good to have gone