Canada Day: clearing the air

Motorcycle in graffiti alley, near Queen Street today


I drove the girls home yesterday afternoon. A rough wind gushed over Ontario’s hilltops, turning trees silver, driving away a stale week’s worth of heat and smog. Clouds menaced, but never brought rain.

I came to Toronto to mark an anniversary, craving affection. I had slept poorly the previous two nights, and financial worries were plaguing me. After some quiet time with my sweetie, balunbustingbea arrived and drove us to danthered’s 21st-floor apartment overlooking High Park, where we watched the July 1 fireworks.

My fear of heights is not emotional. Vertigo is purely physiological. Sitting back from the balcony’s edge, I experienced it as a slow drip in my groin. Whenever I imagined looking over the rail, it twinged. I held back, not wanting to trigger the full-blown feeling of legs melting. Once the light show started and Daniel handed around chicken nuggets, the sensation dissipated.

Someone on another balcony was playing Abba and smoking bad weed.

This morning Danny and I left for an excursion downtown. Linden fragrance flowed down Delaware Avenue. I made him cross the street so we could pass under the boughs laden with white stars sweating citrus sweetness onto the clear breeze. I inhaled deeply.


Another image is posted in doorwindowwall.