Lane Ends 50m

Red Light. Right Lane.

BSAR facing east @ Mt. Pleasant.

Lane ends fifty meters after intersetion

Two cops sit end on end next to me

Left Lane. Long Light.

Waiting... watching the other lights. Green.

Decision: beat them to the front.

Beat them to the left!

Pedestrian warning lights flash

Mt. Pleasant is about to turn red

Yellow first. Clutch disengaged

Right hand in first. Left on wheel

Right foot rests on the throttle

Red

'one onethousand, two'

GREEN

gas-engage-clutch-floor-to-fourthousand

Shift!

floor-to-fourthousand

Shift! (signal left lane change)

floor-to-threethousand

(check mirror-they're way back)

move to left lane as fifty meters runs out

seventy kmph exactly

Shift to fourth gear.

cruise...

They follow closely till

the right lane reappears @ Erie ave

I move over, they pass.

One hits the curb in the middle

@ the bends before Colbourne

I chuckle and return

unacquitted

to home base.

Colin and Co.

Takeoff

one fluid motion:

door snaps open

pizza bag enters first

drops to the passenger seat

as my bum simulataneously

slides into the driver's

left foot disengages clutch

left hand flips power switch

right hand releases from

pizza bag handle, presses shiny

button to the right of steering column

'VROOMPop-Pop-gargle'

she lives.

Alexis lives

for me and I for her.

I hold her in my palms

feel the rhythm of her

four cylinder heart

pulsing faster and louder

as I fuel her appetite

as she breathes oxygen

we live.

We race

against the time

for the heat of the pizza

escapes fast

We race

against anyone who will

join our mad parade

of burnouts

redline shifts

weaving traffic

like a straw

we time lights

memorize exactly when they change

so we don't have to look at them

we focus on the gaps

left by lazy drivers

who have no sense of the

conservation of motion or

the speed of other drivers.

Alexis and I

have this down to a

science.

Colin and Co.

Pie Preparation

Leaning against the wall

in the threshold between

the customers zone and

the employees only

I observe:

the dance of the manager

with aggresive thrusts

leads the kitchen staff

in violent tango

Such transition

(one has ever seen!)

into a smooth swing

towards the ringing telephone

(this in full view of customers)

and the dance turns oral

you swear any ears would melt

at the sound of such calculated words

the deed done, orders in!

The little reciept printer squeals

underpaid chef rips off another

begining. This one a

'Large Hand-Tossed Canadian'

With the precision only available

to the one who has performed

this ritual a myriad of times

he throws the dough

spreads the sauce

with uniformity

places pepperoni

mixes the mushrooms

bacon and cheese

together before

tossing them gently

evenly covering the pie

leaving exactly one inch of crust.

Into the oven for 7 minutes, 40 seconds.

After baking, cutting into 12 slices

and boxing, the perfect pie is ready to go!

Leaning against the wall

in the threshold, I hear my name

followed by this:

"62 Lansdowne

Mr. Wilcox"

Here we go!

Colin and Co.

Answering the Call

*fyi: I am going to try to write a poem on the spot about pizza delivery for the next 5 days. This was inspired by filling out a job application which asked, "what was your favourite job, and why?" It got me thinking... enjoy.*

Answering the Call

Cheap grey vinyl seats, left

warmed by my bum and right

by hot pizza bags, which

reek like greasy goodness

and make the fabric smell for days

even with windows rolled down.

In this young night, hungry stomachs

call 310-10-10 and make their demands.

The lazy ones who won't sacrifice their

teams to unobservance on the telly

make sure to indicate 'delivery'

And so begins the journey

pavement and potholes are the path

pizza and pop are the goods

people and pets are the goal

here we go!

Colin and Co.

Dinner for two

We need some flavour!

We need some spice!

We need to savour

this asian rice.

Don't crack egg shells

Garlic salad, my breath smells

Yellow yolk stains my teeth

Shriveled sausages, no beef?!

We need something tasty

We need something nice!

We need to eat hasty

this asian rice.

I've got sausages, thick round

all beef! Yellow corn kernels abound

Your breath will taste butter-sweet,

so why don't you take a seat, eat!

We've got some root beer

We've got some ice

We've got some good cheer!

with asian rice.

Colin and Co.

I apologize for missing Feb. 26 and Feb. 28. Life can be crazy sometimes.

I just wanted to remind everyone that my book is for sale. If you'd like a copy, let me know. They are $5. Thanks for reading.

a face in the carpet

stares at me

I turn away

scared ashamed

look back

you're gone

your gone

Colin and Co.

Heart Specialist

you see right through my

happy charade

ask an innocent question

"what do people do to make you mad?"

and I walk into a biology lab

dissect me. Take a peek

into my hidden anger

observe my discontent–

and you not only discover

cancer in me,

you know the cause.

You offer me treatment:

silent understanding.

I take it in gulps,

for need of another

to know the pain I suffer

and be quiet soul comfort

Colin and Co.

the children giggle in fields of sand

their parents converse on the edge

nothing but happy sounds

quiet rustling sheets and the

shish

of dry skin on dry skin

the old couple snuggle

in Sunday afternoon nap

two young friends

walking step in step among

brown puddles of slush

splash

ugly setting for the life they begin

together on this day

wind whispers in my ear

a distant voice floating inside

singing

'close your eyes

shut your mouth

hold your breath

and listen'

Colin and Co.

#22

The Russians got a game

plan to foil

Team Canada has a name

in Dan Boyle.

He sets his face in a scruntch,

Afinogenov

won't get away with that cruntch

in the corner.

He chases him down the hot ice

eyes on prey

he's on his Russian ass twice

'fore he can pray.

Maxim's team explodes in a boil

a scrum ensues

the Canucks defend their man Boyle,

a round of booze

for fans all over this great nation

in an Olympic hockey celebration!

Colin and Co.

Language is a Disease (only some Suffer)

a patient of language has

succumbed to the word

death

could this mean less than life?

and yet hopeful

pee / eh(ch) / dee's

hypo,the,size

the paradox and dichotomies will resolve

themselves with a small dose of irony.

haha

"The construction worker

(building word towers)

will suffer due to the harsh environment

he is required to work in. But these towers

are so admired

it's a worthy price to pay."

ja.

The patient takes this in

alcoholically

with the realization that (t)his death

is worth more than life,

thank you.

Colin and Co.

This poem is colourful on too many levels.

elephant grey skies

+

Ferrari red cheeks

=

cold winter ecstasy

water blue t-shirts

+

sand gold skin

=

wet summer foolishness

emerald green accord

+

chocolate brown eyes

=

hot hiway love

Colin and Co.

While on vacation in Madrid

the ego fought with the id

and lost

The cost

of enacting unconscious desire

a home will be set on fire

Though the house still stands

all hope is hanging on strands

of kin

The sin

not only our lives we tore

but the little ones we bore

Colin and Co.

Information

"...The Writings of Colin and Co." will be on hiatus from Feb. 15 - Feb.21 for Reading Week. The fact that I haven't missed a day in this blog since I started the end of January suprises me.

In other news: I have been working on a self-published book for almost a year now. I had one version printed and I thought I was happy with it, but it turns out I am a perfectionist and I ended up making numerous changes. I am now on version 3, and I hope to print some copies this week. If you are interested in obtaining a copy of my tiny book entitled "Miserable Comforters," you know how to get ahold of me. The cost will be $5 per book.

Thanks for reading.

Colin and Co.

Equations of Order

I went first.

We are supposed to be a team

working together towards a common goal

living a life void of lies

building a home to live in one day

sharing secrets and setting boundaries

taking steps in the right direction

comforting eachother through trials

running the race set before us

laughing at our weird habits

believing in eachother when we fail

a team that knows

this game doesn't end

on planet earth.

We are supposed to be a team.

But I went first:

jumped the gate,

ran the yellow,

butted in line,

ate before everyone sat down.

down.

we fall.

I was disqualified = you had to run solo

I was t-boned = you were stuck in traffic

I was sent to the back = you faced humiliation

I choked and died = You ate by yourself

They say

'the first will be last'

I'm last, you're alone,

we're done = it's my fault

don't forgive me.

Colin and Co.

Syncopation

the speed of the clock

Is constant.

Time races as friends laugh and play

Rainy days drag like

clogged arteries.

The clock speed is not

the speed of time.

tick-thump-tick-thump

the rhythm of the heart

Is not constant.

Nervous excitement builds up pressure

Cuddling with someone special

till two tickers synchronize.

The heart beat is

the beat of life.

Colin and Co.

The Prodigal Son

This is another poetry assignment from the workshop I took at Carleton last semester.

It follows one of the most complicated forms I have ever seen. It is a Welsh form called, "Englynion y clyweit." Here are the rules:

4 verses, 3 lines per verse, 7 syllables per line, each line in each verse must rhyme, each verse must ask a question with the first line introducing the question, the second line describing the question, and the third line must be a sort of proverb by itself, but can fit into the other three lines in the form of a question.

On top of this, our teacher asked us to pretend we were poet lauriates for Canada, and we had to write an 'Englynion y clyweit' about the georgraphical area we reside.

OK, here it is.

The Prodigal Son

Have you seen the poor man strive

Marching down Meadowlands Drive

Strength and will cannot survive?

Is this how we're meant to die

Cold, alone, unjustified

Empty hearts are lost in time?

Did you hear the gunshot ring

Silver bullet glistening

Open flesh bleeds suffering?

Can we turn this life around

Place our feet on solid ground

What was dead is safe and found?

Colin and Co.

Come, O Lord!

I've followed ten

commandments

to obey You,

read sixty six books

to learn Your plans,

I've worn Your cross

on my sleve and

played Your music

out of my speakers.

I've gone without food

I've gone without sex

I've gone without friends

because You were mine.

I've given ten percent of my finances

forgiven seventy seven times

served in Your Body

told others about You.

But none of this matters,

unless You change my heart.

I long for Your love.

I await the day when

temptation will cease,

when tears will be

of pure joy only.

I ask for

patience

endurance

forgiveness

Fill me with Your Spirit.

Create in me a pure heart.

I want to love You,

because You loved me before

I turned my back on You.

I want to know You,

because You knew me before

I opened my eyes in blindness.

I want to see You

Face to Face,

for today is a mere reflection

of Your Glory.

Marana tha

Colin and Co.

I need a new obsession...

today shinny round steel balls

roll fixed in stale grease

against iron crank shaft

with a sprocket on the right

pedals dangle on either side

where caterpillar boots lie

running round rusty chainlinks

circling clockwise five gears

selected by salty derailleur

attached to a one point one

millimeter cable leading

to slider style shifter

right hand adjusts according

to how fast we can travel

based mostly on elevation

or obstacles on pothole paths

as my legs push down left

then right repeating my sekine

takes me on thirty five

year old tires at thirty five

kilometers per hour

to my destination:

school.

Colin and Co.