Calgary, Alberta June 7-11, 1978

today on a rocky mountain road

Fodor's Paganini on for the trip 

I stop to gaze up at the jagged peaks and wonder


do they actually come to a point?


a knife edge cutting into the sky?


or is it a function of my perspective only

regarding them from so far below?


I prefer to believe they are sharp

like teeth


and drive on through these giant molars 

flashing them my most toothy Cheshire cat grin 


and wonder which jaw I'm driving up – or down?



 




then up pops a fang – a pointy menacing fang

clouds push up against it, trying to smooth it off

but it stands its ground, cold and solid

it will not be filed or defiled by a mere whisp of a cloud 

and yet, and yet

they have been known to shake, rattle and roll

to send rocks and trees tumbling down into the valleys below

they are not as solid as they look

but such good imposters…

illusion, reality




My drive finishes up on a four-lane expressway about 100 km from Calgary, on the lee-side of the Rockies, where you can feel and taste the dryness.  I come to a crest that looks ominous – I don't want to go – oh – oh – oh, the plains stretch out in front of me now everywhere, just everywhere.  The Rockies fade into the distance in my rear-view mirror. 





 

I don’t know about this. I’m not sure. It feels so … flat.  And dry.

Oh!  Wait!  I wanna go back to juicy B.C.!  

I’m a coastal people, glued to the coast with sea-wet paste.

 

Calgary. Big. Open. 

Rough-edged. A little crass. Hell, a lot crass.

Boom-town. Entering the money market. Going for the big time. 

But still an awkward, gawky adolescent. 

Calgary, off to the races with no set goals in mind. 

Calgary, oil city. Oil companies. Oil buildings. Oil parks. Oil streets. Oil. 

Construction, newness, concrete, cranes. Pock­marked roads. Detours, construction, noise.

Linearity. Street grids, numbers. An overgrown Surrey or Richmond.

The down-town core -- and core it is -- an empty mall, a deserted convention centre, and sterile looking shops. 

Blank, bleak faces on the people I see.

A city with no heart.

 

But four days later I am still here, in Calgary

Enjoying the little luxuries of power, hot showers, clean sheets, and … him.

With him I visit the conservatory and am entranced by cacti and succulents 

Go to the race-track and smell the horseflesh.  It’s been so long.

We eat out, drink wine, and talk non-stop about politics and the state of the world. 

We come to no conclusions, make no decisions.

Our trajectories are divergent.

And then it’s time to go…

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