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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