Bobbing for apples
hands behind my
back almost seven
years old
in the basement
of a friend
a cold rush of water
on my cheeks and
bracing around my
mouth
yellow hanging lightbulb
illuminates this Autumn cellar
scene, Grandfather Frost
brushing me briskly while
on his knee
the towel rubs harsh and
fresh, the smiling gentleman
puts me at ease
In our neighbourhood the
Uptown Citizen was a noble enterprise
sometimes I would help Nippy
on his paper route
on our bikes
aiming for the sweet spot
on the porches
as we rode by
Lions in the Alban Towers
Little Joe waiting
outside perched up in a chair
like a throne, oriental carpets unfold
In the shade of stone masonry
knights and spires rise
and across the street
the Cathedral where I once greeted the Queen
down the avenue
and button hooked near Porter Street
the Zebra Room, venerated tavern
packed tight on two for one night
like Maggie's, warm and cozy
their pizza fresh and yummy
and served in squares...

the apache kid