Student spotlight: I’m eating a doughnut

Michael Lottner is a Montreal native in his second year at Concordia University, completing an honours degree in creative writing. This column was put together with the help of Annah-Lauren Bloom.

for Meredith

in the park, missing you quite a bit. A woman comes up

to me and asks for directions to the nearest

water fountain. “Twenty paces north-east,” I say.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she says. “Would you

do me the honor of looking at my photographs?”

After flipping through pictures of her grandkids

and china sets, a shot of a tiny bird catches my eye.

“If you give me the rest of that delicious-looking doughnut,”

she says, “I’ll tell you the bird’s name.”

This is my third doughnut of the morning, so I accept

her offer. “Thank you,” she says. “This is my Bethina.

She’s a real Curious Finch.”  Discovering a new specimen

is exactly what I need right now. I picture

the inquisitive little birds perched on people’s shoulders,

chirping their life’s stories and planting seeds of curiosity.

I spend the rest of the day eavesdropping on

conversations. When someone asks someone else,

“Do you think Doug will be alright?” I see wings

flutter out the corner of my eye. But that’s the closest

I come to spotting a Curious Finch. Disappointed,

I wonder if maybe Curious Finches

have no interest in getting to know us, and only use us

for our big brains. I can hear your voice in my head

saying you bet they don’t even know a Doug.

What if I were to tell you Doug is their benevolent leader

and lover, and he’s recently gone missing? Do you know

where Doug is? No one expects life to be a single

vast expedition, true. But—er, if you see Doug,

tell him I miss him. That’s all. I’m heading to sleep now.

A purple bed awaits your return, Doug. Yes, I’ve known

you were Doug all along. I just needed a little something

to throw myself for a loop. The doughnuts were

a good deal, but didn’t keep me company for long,

and once I got going, I couldn’t stop. “What

happens if I start missing Doug too much?” I asked

myself. “You’ll see. It’s all up the world’s sleeve,”

I responded. “Everything gets sorted out up there.”

The moon glimmers off my Krispy Kreme coupons,

expressing some strange chirps.

I turn to your side of the bed. Then I turn again,

and again. Yet no matter how many sides I turn toward,

yours is somehow always the other side.

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