POEM: “Blaze ‘er, Lady” — And a fake Self wrapped in a rocker jean jacket and chain wallet?

blazer lady

Blaze ‘er, Lady.

By comparison,
Now that I’m living it
I can say clearly
And without hesitation:
I preferred the cinq à sept
To the five o’clock to two a.m.
Piss ups, anglo-style
On Elgin.

I used to close the pub with her
Our last-call pint chased down with liquor
I’d stand there off patio with a cigarette
Proclaiming: Fuck this town is boring, so sick of it!

The Pizza Pizza lights blaring upon the pavement
I’d say “Ottawa is like a town you pass thru innit?
— to get hot dog buns
— and chips
on the way to your cottage,” I’d insist.

By comparison,
Now that I’m living it
I can say clearly
And without hesitation:
I never wanted late-night drinking
Late-start bands, drinking. Sinking.
My hornyness just misplaced unfulfilment?
And a fake Self wrapped in a rocker jean jacket
and chain wallet?

I prefer curious films
— in a blazer (and heels if I could wear them).
Documentaries then ONE drink, afterwards.
All of us fetching the metro by ten
and others splitting off for a tea at eleven.
I wanted talks and conversations.
I wanted interesting and daring wits.
I was desperate to risk and to live.
I mused two Londoners in fierce contrivance.

And now I’ve set off for home from Montreal bistros, Plateau cafes, Mile End bars twice past three a.m.
With new friends and gents through Parc Lafontaine
John and me we drank a pint there, listened to musicians
And I joke-fought Fabien like a child about the BIXI station.

By comparison,
Now that I’m living it
I can say clearly
So grateful for amazing Ottawans!!
It’s not them
But this City
In which I have lived
such fear and insecurity.

It is like a lover I am so done with.
It is no wonder I have selected men here
— with whom I would never end up long with.

My boyfriends were from military families and/or small towns.
My muses from the Indian Ocean and South Pacific via London.

And fuck if I’m from here – I’m Albertan!
Big imposing mountains my backyard – and the West Coast Pacific.

Mom returned here on the heels of divorce.
Ottawa was never the home I chose.

But when I visited Quebec City and Montreal I fell in Love!
But never did my parents nurture the interest, so lost all this time I was.

By comparison,
Now that I’m living it
I can say clearly
And without hesitation:
Ottawa has been for career
and ambition:
both: I am full of it
But while a pension waits at 57
Who waits for me in the evenings
Naked
Wanting
Breathing
Supporting
Manly and desiring…
And who walks with me
toward that end?

Sylvie Hill July 2018