cool, cloudy, windy, and gloomy
yet i drive to Cold Lake
and on road, i see none
except, occasionally, another clown
but driving opposite
still a little snow
not yet melted
and i am sleepy
trying hard to keep awake
while steering my wheel
i’m inside my car
only gently hot
and, like my luck, i just passed
the high way to Red Water
the 700 million gasoline barrel hamlet
but Smoky Lake
the pumpkin capital of Alberta
i did enter
not for eating
but a drive through was my purpose
passing the village of Vilna
copulating scene i saw
while the eagles on roadside tree
disregarded me, a peeping tom
but with dislike towards a villain
once young and fertile
land, after being caressed, harassed
harvested, and, many times, ransacked
now abandoned like that old grandmother
in care centre, are those reserves
discarded cars, buses, and many
disposed automobiles with farm machineries
scattered through the countryside
with derelict log houses and desolate barns
speak loudly of the human greed
Spedden, the little settlement
with two Ukrainian catholic churches
with hardly a space for secular breathing
caught my attention
but with that Chinese restaurant
i continued to speed
in search of what i know not
lamenting not my passing Lamont
that city living country style
perhaps, the undeveloped basement
Elk Island was my hope
in that journey on that wintry spring
a few buffaloes, a few elks, a beaver
if i’m lucky, that’s all i needed
to see to believe in human race
13.04.2004
