A man comes up to me at a nightclub in Gastown and says,
“I’m too sensitive for this place, I can’t handle the rejection,”
and wanders back into the warm darkness.
At Georgia and Granville a homeless man sits next to the Skytrain.
Waves of pigeons whirl softly around him
as he holds a loaf of bread.
Sitting on the 49 the back of the seat says,
“I don’t love you anymore.” Through the window I see
the forest huddled together in the rain.
Two girls sit against a log on Jericho beach,
the sun a golden medallion of the day,
the yellow center of a blue flower.
“I really trust the people doing the film, and besides,
I just don’t believe God would put me in a bad situation.”
“Oh Lola, every time I see you it’s like we never parted.”
Callie Hitchcock is an undergraduate at the University of British Colombia in Vancouver, Canada.