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sugarfreecapsicle · 6 years ago

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bear

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan suggested I take this request, and I can never ever deny myself some Bucky fluff. I’m on mobile so unfortunately I can’t do a read more break - I’ll edit it in later. Hope you enjoy!! @psittagaka

“You’re telling me you’ve never been?”

You couldn’t hide the pink flush to your cheeks. “Never.”

“Then we’re going,” Steve concluded. “And you’re not backing out on this.”

The next day, the Captain himself announced there would be a so-called team building experience with required attendance.

“Team building other than shooting bullets at weird ass aliens?” Sam quipped. “I’m down.”

“And since this is a SHIELD required event,” Steve continued, his intent gaze never leaving you at your spot near the back of the room. “Y/N will be joining us so she can verify the activities were completed.”

The scents of cotton candy and popcorn filled your nose on arrival to the fair - a semi annual event nearby that allowed space to reconnect with your own humanity playing silly games and binging fried, sugary food.

Not to mention the opportunity to reconnect with a certain super soldier.

You kept to yourself on the trip over, but once you entered through the brightly colored banner, you had Natasha and Bucky at your side.

“So Barnes seems to think he’s going to win you a giant stuffed teddy bear, but I think he’s full of shit,” Natasha smirked. “I’m winning you a giant stuffed teddy bear.”

“Like hell you are.” Bucky challenged, tugging at you where he had threaded his prosthetic arm with your soft one.

Natasha extended her stride, releasing her hold on you while strutting in front of the two of you. “You’ll have to beat me to the balloon stall, then.”

Bucky’s smirk grew into a full grin before turning to you. He leaned in close, breath hot against your ear. “That bear is yours, darlin’, and I’m gonna get it for you.”

He had rushed off in pursuit and left you to deal with the overwhelming sensations of more than just your chaotic environment. You intended on telling Bucky about your feelings for him eventually when you felt the time was right, and Steve had been obsessed with finding the right moment for you once he had discovered your affection via misplaced text messages.

“I took the liberty of getting you refreshments,” Steve smiled, offering a tall, tie-dyed plastic cup as long as your forearm. By the scent of it, it had to be a pina colada. “No alcohol, of course. This isn’t too much all at once, is it?”

You shook your head as you took a sip from the oversized bendy straw. “No, I’m fine. It’s a lot to take in.”

Sure, you’d been to a fair before but never one as large as this one. It could’ve been a theme park on its own. People packed in lines, tossing change at vendors for another round of wooden horse races and refills on Italian ice. Music blared through old speakers, often drowning out the sellers trying to vie for potential consumers’ attention.

Your curious gaze began to drop as you noticed a group of men leering at you and laughing amongst themselves. It was irrational, you wagered once the hurt set in, that they would be talking about you. Being plus sized did draw some amount of attention especially at a venue where food was involved, but that didn’t mean they were mocking you. You shook it off and gulped down more of the frozen drink.

“Have you told him yet?”

“Steve, we just got here,” you whined. “Besides he ran off with Nat to the shooting gallery.”

“So what are we doing here? C’mon, I want to see this,” he laughed, placing a hand at the small of your back to urge you along the right path. You both weaves through the crowd with minimal obstacles until a woman shoulder-checked you roughly. She scoffed, rolled her eyes and muttered something ugly as she shuffled away with her two children.

“Manners,” you said gently to Steve whose fist had balled where his hand rested against you. “She’s probably just overheated and exhausted. Her kids look like they might have another few hours of a sugar rush left in them.”

“Doesn’t make it okay to treat anybody like that,” he countered, glaring behind the two of you over his shoulder. “We’re almost there anyway.”

A crowd had gathered at the red and white striped booth where Natasha and Bucky had nearly exhausted the vendor’s nerves. By the looks of the poor duck paddles, they’d already done some damage to his game.

The audience didn’t seem to mind the show between the two assassins. Both earned cheers for every victory, and the children watching were picking their favorite of the two based on who passed the winning prizes (that definitely were not the large bear hanging from the far corner of the booth) to them.

After the current round, people were chattering about who had the best shot of the match when Bucky looked over his shoulder and smiled upon seeing you. He gave you a wink then passed on a few quarters for another round.

“Alright, winner takes all: last round,” the lean man called, resetting the targets. Everyone counted down from three before Natasha and Bucky began shooting as soon as objects appeared in their field of vision. It all happened so fast you almost didn’t realize the match had ended.

The vendor assessed the shots, then turned to proclaim the winner.

“Congratulations, sir, on your life sized teddy bear,” he called out, eating up the mixed reaction from the crowd. “That was the most impressive competition I’ve ever seen.”

“I handed that to you, Barnes,” Natasha teased, lightly punching his shoulder. “He needs to repaint that hunter so he doesn’t look so duckish.”

Bucky smiled wide and tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, Natasha.”

You couldn’t help but grin - it’d been too long since you’d seen him so relaxed and happy, if you ever had. He deserved this, the whole team did.

“Darlin’!” Bucky called, jogging over through the crowd to you. “Told you I’d get you the bear.”

“You most definitely did,” you laughed, piling the soft monstrosity onto your shoulder and hips. Someone nearby, you couldn’t place who, commented a little too loudly that the bear was almost as big as you and chipped at your smile.

You did want to tell Bucky. You really did. But what if he didn’t feel the same way?

“Come on,” he said, a hand at the curve of your waist, “I want to take a victory lap around this place with you.”

You obliged, all too happy for the distraction. The two of you paired off from your friends, matching your pace and strides together.

“Buck, could...can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezed at your hip, and you wanted to run away from the retching pull in your stomach.

“I really appreciate the bear and all, but I have a confession to make.” He didn’t respond more than an expectant look, so you continued. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and I feel like I’m going to pass out or puke or maybe both if I don’t tell you, and-“

“I know,” he grins, almost laughing. “If I didn’t feel the same way, do you think I’d have bet Nat I could get that bear for you? I mean, the kids were cute, but I have my priorities.”

#my fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble

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kegareki · 6 years ago

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duckish replied to your photo “@duckish he is SO ridiculous, i adore him so much he has a preexisting...”

He's trying so hard but he'd rather die than talk about it or ask for advice. Yet, still less emotionally constipated than his brother! It's like when you have that friend who has some odd personality quirks and then you meet their family and everything suddenly makes so much sense.

gd. you’re right. i was looking up the order of events in inuyasha so that i could organize them in my fic and we meet sesshomaru after, what, a week at most? and sesshomaru set up an entire scene specifically designed to psychologically torture inuyasha. he’s got a mu-onna pretending to be inuyasha’s mother, he’s riding a giant ogre that emerges out of the fog to smash the mu-onna, and he glides down the ogre’s arm to present himself, and the very first words exchanged are

inuyasha: sesshomaru...?! sesshomaru: hmm? it seems you’ve remembered the face of your elder brother.

like. gd. no WONDER inuyasha’s overcompensation tends to be dramatic. no WONDER he’s so bad at expressing himself in ways that aren’t contradictory. he has to deal with his... species-ist? half-brother barging in every so often on giant ogres to mock inuyasha and then try to kill him. showing “weakness” would just give sesshomaru more ammunition

#duckish #keg wrecks #keg reads #sesshomaru has shown up twice now and both times have been on giant ogres. if he does this again i am going to Scream.

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eddiehaley · 3 years ago

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Haven't had a chance to talk about this yet!! I was asked to be a part of Feature Presentation's 2nd poster-themed show:

Feature Presentation is a group art exhibition that celebrates the iconic Australian Daybill movie poster. 6 artists have been commissioned to put their original twist on classic film posters, in response to the inaugural BORLFF (Brisbane’s Only Rotoscope Lightning Film Festival), running from July 29th - August 7th.

The Daybill is a now-defunct vintage poster format, unique to Australian shores. Measuring approximately 13 x 30 inches, these oddly-shaped posters have produced some famously distinctive compositions - with designers taking artistic liberties & lateral interpretations of classic films. The a-typical dimensions of the Australian Daybill can be partially attributed to wartime penny-pinching; a tall and slim design meant that several posters could fit onto a single sheet of paper for printing. Gone but not forgotten, the Australian Daybill was widely used in cinema advertising right up until the early 90s. These vintage posters are now much sought-after collectibles, celebrated for their rarity, unique artwork & historical significance.

Of course I was asked to illustrate the very strange, very up my alley movie, Howard the Duck LOL. Somehow in my 80's fueled teen years I didn't get around to seeing this one, but I watched it especially for the show and -- I kind of loved it?? It's stupid, Lea Thompson and Tim Robbins ham it up in every scene, the costume design is AMAZING and overall it's just an incredibly tone-deaf, weird ass film. I wanted Howard front and centre on my poster so here he is, slightly less creepy than he is on screen but still uh...duckish. And in thrift-store clothing. Anyway the show is part of BORLFF: BORLFF - Brisbane Only Rotoscope Lightning Film Festival

Presented by Two Bit Movie Club, Netherworld, Feature Presentation and New Farm Cinemas, the Brisbane Only Rotoscoped Lightning Film Festival is a retrospective film festival celebrating the iconic hand-drawn lightning visual effects that were a hallmark of the weirdest and coolest science fiction and fantasy movies of the first 100 years of filmmaking.

The BORLFF program comprises a lovingly curated selection of odd and wonderful films from the 1950s through to the 1990s, each — crucially — featuring at least one scene with a hand-drawn lightning effect. Why theme a film festival around this, you ask? Well, because it rules. Obviously.

The festival will run over a two-week period as a series of themed double features, all at Brisbane’s beautiful New Farm Cinemas. Tickets are available for individual features or as a special combo deal, with a BORLFF season pass available for the true lightningheads out there who need to see every single zap.

Opening Night: July 29th @ Newfarm Cinemas in Brisbane

Tickets: https://www.borlff.com

Posters: https://www.featurepresentation.bigcartel.com

If you're not downunder, you can order a copy of my Howard the Duck poster alongside the 5 other amazing designs at the link above!!

#howard the duck #youngearlgrey #movie posters #daybill poster #australian daybill #80s movies #borlff #my art

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icosahedonist · 7 years ago

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The Secret Garden

Note: this has nothing to do with the novel, other than it shares a name. Many thanks to the group chat participants who stayed up with me while I wrote this, and graciously allowed me to fill the chat with fic in the first place.

As has been his habit for long years, Sid wanders the local forest, and happens upon a quiet, well-maintained garden, where he meets a young man reading on a stone bench. The young man looks up at Sid's intrusion, a little shocked, but his face smooths to a pleasant smile. "Hello," he says, his voice soft and accented in a way that makes Sid think of adventures in far-off lands.

A moment passes and Sid blurts out, "Hi!" Hoping to regain equilibrium, he says, "My name's Sidney. Sidney Crosby." And the young man introduces himself as Evgeni Malkin. "I've walked these woods for years and never come across this place. Are you new in town?"

Some emotion flits over Evgeni's face before he replies, "Not new, exactly. But I'm surprised you came here; my garden is hard to find sometimes."

Evgeni gestures for Sid to join him on the bench. Sid sits beside him, the stone cool beneath his hands. He nods at the book. "What are you reading?"

"Ah, it's—" And Evgeni pauses as if embarrassed. Sid puts on what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "It's some poetry. A little slow going, as my English is poor."

Immediately Sid scoffs. "Your English is fine. and who cares how fast you read? I can hardly get through my assigned reading without nodding off, I'm so slow."

Evgeni laughs. "All right." His smile is so easy and without artifice, it makes Sid warm from the inside.

Searching for something to say, Sid asks, "What did you mean when you said your garden is hard to find sometimes? I could swear I've been by this area before, and I would have remembered a place like this, and..." He hesitates, then says, "I would have remembered someone like you."

Evgeni looks down. Sid worries that he's offended him somehow, but Evgeni says, so softly Sid has to strain to hear, "This is a forgotten place."

Brow furrowing, Sid makes to speak when Evgeni looks back at him. "I don't mean to sound melodramatic," he says, his smile returning, "but it's true."

"How?" Sid breathes. Melodrama or no, this mystery is too terrible to think about.

Shrugging, Evgeni says, "A curse fell upon the estate long ago. All who lived here were cursed to be forgotten. Everyone who passes by would overlook it, and I..." He grimaces. "I'm the last now."

Sid doesn't know what to say. Curses aren't real. are they? But he doesn't get the feeling that Evgeni is lying to him... And to what end? If he wanted some sympathy, he surely wouldn't invent such a tall tale.

But Evgeni shakes his head. "I know. It doesn't sound real, does it? I didn't think so at first when I heard it, but I'd see people pass by in the garden, and no matter how I shouted, no one ever approached."

"That's. That's awful," Sid says finally.

Evgeni shakes his head again, his smile returning. "Well." He claps his hands on his knees and stands. "Since clearly you are here, and we're talking now, why don't I show you the estate?"

Sid springs up faster than necessary. "Oh, I. I'd like, yes. Of course." Bemused, Evgeni gathers up his book and leads the way. They wend their way through the lush greenery, flowers and scented herbs lining their mossy, paver-laid path. Evgeni points out a tree that he climbed as a child ("You don't know how often I scared my parents." "I can imagine."). They pass a pond with ducks lounging by it, paying them no mind as they doze and waddle about and generally do duckish things.

Then they come upon the house itself. It's a large, dark manor, imposing and Gothic-looking and altogether foreboding, but Evgeni leads Sid up the multitude of steps and they go inside, the stained glass door opening and closing on well-oiled hinges.

"Sorry, it's a bit much," Evgeni says.

"No no, it's fine," Sid says faintly. The entrance opens to a grand staircase, large windows at the landing letting in copious amounts of sunlight. Above, an ornate chandelier twinkles among the dust motes. To the left and right are archways to other areas, and Evgeni gestures toward the left.

"Since it's just me now, I've cut down my living quarters considerably. So now I take my meals in the kitchen, and sleep in what used to be the dining room." He looks back at Sid, grinning and inviting him to share in the silliness that is a too-big house.

Sid grins back. "I'm sure it's cozy enough." And Evgeni laughs, and Sid feels warm again

They come to what is clearly a library. Books bound in every color, in every shape, fill the wall-to-wall shelves. At one end is an unlit fireplace with a well-worn, overstuffed chair in front of it. A knit blanket drapes over it, askew, and on the side table are a stack of books.

"I maintain this room too," Evgeni says, pride suffused in his voice. Sid marvels at the immensity, thinking that these sorts of personal libraries were a relic of the past. Then he thinks, if what Evgeni says is true, then it is a relic. But a well-loved one, clearly, and Sid can't be sad about that.

Quietly Sid says, "It's wonderful, Evgeni."

Turning bashful all of a sudden, Evgeni strides past Sid. They make their way to the other wing, where the kitchen and Evgeni's converted bedroom reside. They pass by other rooms, parlors and sitting rooms and rooms Sid can't even name, all of them quiet and sheet-covered.

The bedroom, though clearly too large for just one man, is simple in its furniture: a small bed made up carefully, a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser with odds and ends atop it.

The kitchen is much the same, but its old-fashioned design is more pronounced. A pile of wood is stacked by the door, and Sid realizes then that because of all the natural lighting, he hadn't noticed that this house likely doesn't run electricity. Which perhaps only means it's a curiosity. But Sid says nothing, merely nods and smiles when Evgeni looks at him like he wants Sid to approve of his well-kept kitchen.

"I could make you something, perhaps? I could roast some vegetables, I grow them myself."

Charmed, Sid says, "Thank you, but—" He looks at his watch, and when he glances up Evgeni is looking at his wrist in fascination. He unlatches it and hands it over for Evgeni to inspect. He watches as Evgeni turns it this way and that, fiddles with the clasp, pokes at the plastic face, and finally holds it up to his ear.

Evgeni shakes his head ruefully then hands Sid back his watch. "I knew there were surely inventions beyond what my books describe, but this is fantastic."

Sid believes him then, he decides. It'd be too much otherwise, even if believing in curses is still a far-fetched and frankly ridiculous notion.

"What will happen if I go?" Sid asks.

Evgeni looks away. The sunlight through the kitchen window lines his face in gold. "I don't know," he says, softly. He turns back, then says a little louder, "It was a miracle just to see you again, and for you to see me."

Sid blinks. Slowly, he says, "What do you mean, 'again?'" He stares at a now-silent Evgeni.

Then Sid has a thought: "Wait, you don't mean we've... have we—" But Evgeni shakes his head.

"I assure you, you've never met me before. But I told you that I would see people wander by the garden. I've... I've seen you over the years." He glances away, a strange smile over his face. "This is the first time you've seen me."

Sid can't think of what to say. Evgeni continues, "So I don't know what will happen when you leave. And you will leave, Sidney, because you can't stay here." And Sid wants to protest that, but it's true: Sid has his family, and all his friends, and classes and everything beyond this estate, beyond Evgeni.

"Then come with me," Sid blurts out, face burning with some emotion he can't name.

Evgeni stills. Sid presses on. "If I can see you now, what's to say you can't leave too? Maybe you don't have to stay here."

"This is my home, Sidney," Evgeni says gently, but Sid shakes his head.

"I know, but. maybe you can come back, I—I don't know, or, what if I come back? Surely I could," he says earnestly.

Evgeni's hesitation draws out like a dwindling rope, and for a moment Sid wonders if he's gone too far, or made Evgeni hope too much for something that may have worked only this one time.

Finally, Evgeni says, slowly, "If I go with you..." He covers his eyes with his hand. "If I go with you," he repeats, voice rough, "and if I can't leave, then I will still have this moment with you. Even if you can't return."

Sid takes a step toward him. "But if I can't return," Evgeni says, "what shall I do? This is all I've ever known. This estate has been in my family for... for forever. For it to stand alone and fall to ruin..."

Sid's heart thumps painfully in his chest. "I don't know. I wish I did. I wish that I could say you can... make a life with me, be friends outside this place, but..."

"But we're friends now." And Evgeni sniffles loudly, and says, "Aren't we?" He uncovers his eyes and looks down at Sid, his brown eyes full of unshed tears that make Sid want to brush them away.

"Yes," Sid says with absolute certainty.

This earns him a weak but genuine smile. "Then I will always have this miracle at least, and fret over nothing else."

They return to the bench in the garden, saying nothing along the way. Sid undoes his watch and presses it into Evgeni's hands. "Please. If... if I can't, then..." And he can't finish his sentence.

Solemnly Evgeni nods. For just a second he pauses, then ducks down to kiss Sid's cheek. Sid's fingers come up unbidden to linger there, and Evgeni's face colors.

"I'm glad I met you, Sidney Crosby. No matter what happens, I won't forget you."

He steps away, biting his lip. And then Evgeni turns and strides away toward the manor, and in the blink of an eye he's gone.

Sid shakes himself out of his daze. He goes home straightaway, and in a fit of inspiration writes down everything he can remember of the encounter: Evgeni on the bench with his book of poetry, the ducks at the pond, the vast emptiness of the manor, Evgeni showing him his beloved library. He mentions only that they parted as friends, and that Sid hopes to retrace his steps and go back to the garden.

That night he falls into the deep, dreamless sleep of one who's been through some great event.

When Sid wakes the next day he goes about his regular business: morning classes, lunch, more classes in the afternoon. By the time he gets home he's exhausted. He sees the journal by his bed that night, and flips to the end of it and reads what he wrote.

Memory comes to him all at once, a great shiver overcoming him momentarily.

It's like finding his second wind: he throws on his clothes and grabs a flashlight. Tromping through the woods at night is already a dangerous affair; Sid tells himself that it would be better to do this in the morning, but what if he forgets again? No, he has to try, he has to find the garden.

What memory he does have, thankfully, is good, so he feels confident that he's retracing his steps. But though he knows he's in the right area, he can't find it. Turning this way and that, his flashlight strobing through the trees, he feels a creeping sense of loss. The bench is gone, the manor is gone, and Evgeni—

Sid hears crunching in the distance. Then a voice. "Hello?"

It takes everything in him not to collapse from relief so strong.

He musters up his voice and shouts back, "I'm here!" He stays put, turning his flashlight toward where he heard the voice.

The crunching gets louder, and then a swinging light appears in the trees. Sid spots Evgeni and goes to him at once.

Evgeni has time only to say Sid's name in confused wonder before Sid is barreling into him, his arms wrapped tight as they can go around him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't remember, but I wrote it down and I had to know, I just had to—" Sid babbles out.

"Sidney, Sidney! Calm down, Sidney, please, what—" And Sid buries his face in Evgeni's thick sweater, and for a long moment they stand there in an embrace.

Finally Sid pulls back to look at Evgeni. "I wrote everything down. I only remembered when I read it again. I'm sorry."

Evgeni shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, Sidney," and he wants to protest, but Evgeni shushes him.

"Sidney, don't you see? I told you it was a miracle."

Sid blinks. Looking carefully at Evgeni's face in the lantern light, he sees tears in his eyes. "I don't—what do you mean, I don't understand."

Evgeni laughs wetly and presses a long kiss to Sid's forehead. There he whispers, "We're beyond the boundary of the estate."

Sid jerks back, but Evgeni's arm holds firm.

"But. If..." Sid licks his lips. "If you're here, then... can you...?"

"I don't know," is all Evgeni says. He turns away, and hand-in-hand he leads them toward the boundary. Long seconds pass, the crunching of dead leaves under their feet the only noise in the forest. Then Evgeni stops abruptly, and then steps forward again just as quickly.

There, under Evgeni's weeping figure, is the stone bench.

Sid rushes to his side and holds him as Evgeni sobs in relief. He says words too fast to understand in some language Sid doesn't know.

Wiping his face, Evgeni stands and lurches toward the path to the house, Sid following closely behind. They pass the climbing tree, and the pond, and walk the multitude of steps to the too-big, too-empty manor. Evgeni's tears spring up again, and Sid hustles them inside to the kitchen.

He fumbles around for a glass, and then fumbles some more with getting water, but eventually he's able to set the glass in Evgeni's hands. Once he's drank two full glasses, Evgeni says, his accent stronger, "I didn't know. I didn't..."

"It's okay," Sid murmurs. He rubs at Evgeni's back, and they sit in silence for... Sid doesn't know how long.

Finally Evgeni speaks again. "Well. This is not only a miracle, but a romantic adventure too."

Startled, Sid laughs, a short honk that makes Evgeni smile widely. He puts his hand over Sid's.

"It doesn't matter that you forgot, Sidney, only that you remembered."

"And came back," Sid replies, quiet and steady.

Evgeni squeezes his hand. "Yes."

And by that point the adventure of the evening has exhausted them both, and Evgeni insists Sid take his bed while Evgeni fixes up one of the other rooms for himself.

Sid sleeps easily. In the morning, he comes awake to faint sounds, the kind one hears when someone is trying to be quiet while they go about their routine. At first he's disoriented; his parents aren't over for a visit, and Taylor would make much more noise.

But then he remembers, and he bolts up from Evgeni's bed to find him in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.

Sid doesn't know if this strange feeling of relief at seeing Evgeni will ever pass. But maybe, he hopes, it will become something normal: something he could get used to.

And when Evgeni smiles and beckons him to join in making breakfast, Sid does, and forgets the outside world for the morning.

#fanfiction #my fanfiction #sidgeno #rpf #pittsburgh penguins

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feignedlikelihood · 7 years ago

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Rob Ford wuz here – graffiti in toronto ravine ever smelt the early morning smell of green in deep ravines seen the flash of red cardinal or the red winged black bird poised for flight the bushy- tailed fox slinking away through the trees have you crested davenport hill on bathurst stood on what was once the shoreline seen the city slope down to the lake the cn tower standing at phallic attention ever waited on queen for the bright-eyed cyclops trundling along on a wintry evening shoulders hunched up above your ears seen the spadina car move through continents as it traverses its north south axis the ossington bus carrying africa on its back making its way up to eglinton have you stirred up the dust under the trees at queen’s park at afrofest as the many strands of africa coalesce to listen to the beat thought lost long ago listened to mapfumo cherished chiwese as tuku music talked back to you walked any of the many trails in high park that make green mockery of the city watched the ducks being ducks in their iridescent duckishness stood under the garish lights of kinko’s seen another face of the city at 2 in the morning all pretence gone making images black white & coloured walked along bloor as tired shopkeepers put out their garbage bought walnut cakes from the korean store an ice cream from baskin robbins across from christie pitts a falafel from gazal stood in line at the bloor cinema borrowed a video from queen video or suspect that earns its name honestly had a beer at the brunswick late night nachos at sneaky dees have you ever smelt the early morning smell of this city familiar as a lover’s smell as it rolls over groans sighs and lets her many many lovers loose some too busy to see her virtues some only too willing to curse her flaws others indifferent all linked willing or unwilling moving through yet another day in the city have you stood cheek by jowl with the young man you don’t trust ever too close for comfort to the suit with her brief case offered your seat to the old jamaican lady hugging her bible close as the street car rocks its way across st. clair sat across from the young bay street type working or pretending to in these times that try then test the best in us ever seen schools disgorge their screaming laughing we- are-the-world populations onto playgrounds loved these hard streets with your feet marching against the bomb against war against apartheid for a woman’s right to her body for men women & children we don’t know a long long way away against the many myriad ways power runs amok holds us hostage as it does today making us all communist have you wined on university to the beat of a caribana band watched the pride of the that other nation unfurl its rainbow for us will you can you have you cycled or walked ever across the viaduct spanning the valley of the don looked down to where many have embraced too soon what comes to all as the city reaches out to bind them to it to us with tendrils of steel eaten a roti on bathurst have you sat at dooney’s when it was drank an espresso or capuccino and watched the world saunter by paid homage to the french in upper canada and eaten a poutine the only place you will find gravy today gone up to eglinton where sometimes wanton bullets have sped with brutal disregard for a people who have survived so much had a patty or dumplings on spadina a somoza on gerrard seen the young students from central tech edgy in their youth their energy flooding bloor and bathurst at noonday or raised your eyes up up to where moriyama’s vision of space and light creates a visual prayer to books at yonge & bloor to learning without ads or logos &draws the every in us to the lure of words have you ever taken the pulse of this city felt it quicken as the world’s rhythms join the first heart beat of the mississauga to allow for a moment when the possible moves closer walked along davenport road clotted with cars on an early morning and listened if you walked softly quietly enough to the tramp tramp of the first peoples who first bent the grass into path then trail followed by farmers to defy the historical odds against them & remind us all that we are newcomers to turtle island have you ever wandered through kensington where jew and black met recognised the each in other where not that long ago you could buy a squawking chicken for sunday dinner and had a rugla along college where the unia was a refuge for black folk unwelcome then in this city have you ever been to a black church talked to a black mother any mother who has lost a son a daughter explored a schwarma on yonge understood how the frightened the persecuted the talented have brought a fire to this place this space still held in trust seven generations into the future followed the ghost of garrison creek as it winds its way underground past the lcbo at st clair & alberta under christie pits all the way down to the lake seen the don come alive again the lake welcome us once more have you cycled around this city bike lanes or not sparring with cars taken a street car on an early morning towards the sunrise along queen to the beach sat on the shore listened to the gulls smelt that smell we know from before time when we scavenged beaches for food taken the ferry across the blustery lake with its cargo of children bikes lovers nudists hikers caribana partiers or just plain folks living in the moment that is this place this space have you heard ever nusrat fateh ali khan summon angels at harbourfront send them floating across the lake all the way back to mecca or david rudder invoke our father through africa have you will you can you hear fado meet funk see reggae and klezemer shake hands laugh as bhangra sits down eats with calypso and chutney rock with folk and r& b as zouk and hip hop break bread to the strains of mozart & beethoven here in this place they and we call a meeting place t dot the rappers say the place we all love to hate that is still home have you ever been at the parkdale tavern when it was felt the energy crackle of an evening when welfare cheques arrived stood back behind the yellow line in the subway waiting for blast of air down the tunnel given a looney to the homeless man standing outside the station watched the squirrels’ tails purl the wires as they prepare for the long hard of winter heard the city exhale one long sweet green breath as spring enters grieved with a city for shoeshine boys young girls taken too soon young men too angry to talk except through guns laughed at the army sent to rescue us from snow and nooobody wishing for a viaduct across the growing chasm between jane finch and rosedale the bridle path and flemingdon while regent gentrifies itself have you seen how the many tongues of a fractious world ever more fragmented cleave communities out of a hard strange city licking shaping them lovingly into little towns did you have you would you ever dream a dream a city on a hill call it a meeting place call it say its syllables echo its name with bullhorns for when the pulse slows and anomie curdles into anger when the train has left with the gravy that never was anything but us all that will be left is rob ford wuz here

M. Nourbese Philip, luv song for rob ford

#m. nourbese philip

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