the finish line

+ i missed out on the fall, the leaves, longer nights. i guess it came and went and now we are finishing november. i spent the fall inside, on the phone, walking to and from, but it really is the first fall i've spent in vancouver since i left surrey, the first fall at home, the first fall on a one zone bus pass. up victoria drive, back home through the park, up broadway, keep going. i sweep my patio, leaves from the trees and pine needles.

+ and i've run from campaign to campaign, in between i drink coffee in my kitchen and read the newapaper, a novel, do the dishes every afternoon. and i've won everything i've tried my hand at this year, a string of stunning victories, everything is going in the right direction. i get out to watch a hockey game, drink less than before because i'm old now, i'm not drinking in a bar that i own, i'm meeting a friend for a beer to watch the game after work. and then i'm going home, to write, to read. at 10.30, after the game. a pub that i can walk home from, a pub down the street.

+ and i'm already forgetting my week in court, lunch at court, rain all day, on the long glass roof, raining in and around, waiting and waiting. what did i do after we won? oh, right, i went to court. it's like it was in march, it's over now, i'm just numb to the result. of course i wasn't, i wanted to be, and who really knows this time. it's a coda, the surprise epilogue to my novel. my book. you can't drink a coffee in court, so i went back to an espresso, drink it on the skytrain, hope it's enough until lunch.

+ and i'm forgetting how to read, how i used to read for a lifeline, a slice of life on the bus - please don't hassle me, please don't recognise me, just let me read for now before i have to work again, before i'm back at school - i wanted to read so much more. now i have books and i have time and i'm waiting.

+ and this spring, when i had tickets for the train. picking books out for the train, watching the weather. a train through the mountains, cities, the desert. all i needed to keep working, up the hill every day, tickets for the train.

there was a landslide in oregon, the landslide that took out the track, so i bought a plane ticket. i still brought books, but fewer. i'd be in the air for only 8 hours, small layovers, no time at all, really.

+ better government, a positive change, beer all night. where we come from and why we stay up all night, why we forget it all the day after, back to mornings and nights and "what do you do when you're not here?" - well, i'm just here, i'm never not here. divide the city into quadrants, zones, polls, lists of people voting, colours. stay in control; win.