Thursday, May. 01, 2003 - 9:54 p.m.
Cigarettes are scattered by my feet , I am stepping over and around but ashes singe through the soles of my shoes . It is like dancing on a cigarette bonfire , freshly extinguished still blazing nicotine . A bleach blonde mess , a blur of army prints strides by and I wonder where he's come from .
From the war , maybe ? I wonder what he has seen . Bullet wounds and patriotic men , screaming for their freedom screaming for their country screaming for their children and the world they left behind . The book he reads is dog-eared , torn at the spine . He glances occasionally out the window of the bus , longing ? Wondering if this is a country worth fighting for .
I lie; this is not America this is Canada . We are safe in our ignorance , safe in a Canadian womb built with polititians and prime ministers , mayors who get hit with cars and survive the blows , a supernatural race of peacekeepers and an army with warriors who want to fight but have toys in their hands .
One day we will be born from this womb , sheltered and unafraid of a world we never knew existed outside of news broadcasts and papers that are tossed onto our doorsteps . Like a movie , like a novel , a chronicle of a nation too large to know its own mistakes but too small to admit when it does .
This is a tame country , but better tame than run by a president who is determined to self destruct .
Le sigh .
