Monday, April 28, 2008


It's another Wednesday and I am wandering home along St. Laurent.
I am very very hungry so I go into Copacabana because I remember eating there with my friends when I first came to Montreal. The kitchen is freaking shut. I order 2 bags of chips and a beer and start to draw so I can forget how hungry I am.

The bar is almost empty. A few men loiter around the pool table and I think of Gwendolyn Brooks' poem "We real cool"

We Real Cool

The Pool Players
Seven at the Golden Shovel

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

Later the one with floppy hair that keeps falling into his eyes will come and talk to me. He's religious.


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