Short Stories, Essays, Poetry, Journalism.

Leeside

A man was shot in Gastown

two years plus ‘03

and lived again ‘neath Hastings

as a different side of Lee

 

Paint is his tattoos

and emblazoned on his skin

one word THIEF cries out

to he who did him in

 

Curves are his life stories

all endless sloping grooves

with each spill he caresses

who knew cement could soothe?

 

Flood lights are his eyes

watching from above

and they seem to grow still brighter

with every pop and shove

 

His voice is heard in echos

that bounce from wall to wall

from a distant corner, boxed off now

you could hear his ghostly call

 

His nerves are in the coping

his soul goes with each wheel

his heart beats fast with every pump

his bones are made of steel

 

Home to the lost and lonely

heaven to the free

he shelters each that comes to him

that different side of Lee.

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