Friends & Wacky Woo
by Brian Campbell
[ poetry - march 09 ]
Friends
New York Jack strides over Wall Street's skyscraper canyons, cups the Guggenheim to his ear and listens to its conch-like whispers, leaps over Central Park's green rectangle, pees in Ground Zero.
Vancouver Victor swaggers down the Rockies, kicks all the sand off Wreck and Kitsilano Beaches, out-jabbers Chinatown, out-gallivants Gastown.
Toronto Tina moves those high buildings around like chess pieces. Her Queen is the CN Tower. Her shopping bag, bigger than Holt Renfrew on Bloor Street. At times, she wraps herself in the trees of High Park and slumbers.
Sydney Stephanie rolls around the Circular Quay, bounds Bondi Beach, spans Darling Harbour with her smile, reclines upon the Opera House as on a pillow.
Montreal Michel mounts Mont Royal. Served by every waitress on Duluth, Prince Arthur, and St-Denis (all at once), he out-spirals the spiral balconies, out-Oms the Big O.
When they get together, when they e-mail or even think of each other, they momentarily forget they are grains of rice in a field of rice, white dwarfs in a galaxy of exploding suns.
Wacky Woo
Wacky woo. But really woo. Waltz together to Javanese gongs, ululate an uvular song. Somersault in scuba fins, go slappity slap round the Dead Sea's rim. Sprinkle the last snows of Tahiti over each other like confetti. Sing "Here Comes The Bride" in Kazakh and Kradai; make them entirely harmonize. Carry her upstairs under a lintel; lay her down in a chamber - entirely of rose petals. Order burgers, fries, and chocolate-covered apples; devour them by candlelight. Massage each other with Velcro - but warmly, gently, so your skins just glow. Make a spell: circle her thrice, ring a bell, swing a cut lily over your heads, chant Ding Dong Dell.
