An ode to the season of warm nights, light reads, and many memories
Summer in the Interstices
Why, summer has a tendency,
With boisterous, bold temerity,
To carry those from overseas,
Who – to Montreal are bound.
As tourists flock, they shuffle feet,
And dawdle down Ste-Catherine Street,
Their hands at ends to spend a treat,
On the wonders that are found.
As sunshine grazes milky skin,
She melts the heart of Scrooge within,
Yet streets are tinted with chagrin,
For ears prick – at curious sound.
With squeals escaping from the crane,
Construction works bring little pain,
Poor yellow bird whose neck is strained,
Lifting high above the ground.
The Mount has traded wintry cloak,
Instead for trees that boast and gloat,
But soon they too must change their coat,
For fall is near around.
And as leaves part, we ought return,
Our nose to books; we’re taught to learn,
Inflated sums we got to earn,
To splurge – when summer’s back in town.
By Joshua De Costa
I Turned 19
All my hometown friends are watching me,
As I watch them from the shore’s edge.
“Are you doing okay, Jules?” someone calls out,
And I realize how hopeless I must look.
I’m trying to crab walk out of the water to where it meets dry land,
But the waves keep pushing me down.
The rocks aren’t balanced enough to let me stand.
The rocks have too many barnacles to let me kneel.
So I’m just shuffling along until I find a rock,
Big enough and bare enough to sit on.
I stay there and breathe for a minute
Before tripping my way back up the beach.
“Are you good there, Buddy?” someone else asks,
As I sit back down on a log with the group.
I look at my legs and there is blood dripping down,
My calves and feet from barnacles scraping my skin.
I put Band-Aids on and blow out candles,
And everyone helps me celebrate another year,
Of being beat up by the same beaches since childhood,
And another year of thinking I’m too good for Aqua Socks.
By Juliet Booker
