“SMILING CHIN UP OR BROW DOWN”

Walking down Saint Laurent Boulevard,
my chin is up.
I am smiling at everyone in
placid demure, to no effect.
Babies love me, though. Babies
and one or two French girls
I
haven't yet met.
Will I ever or
will I wait for
these babies to grow into them?
For myself to grow grey or just
old? Loneliness
waits at the end of long streets
like
Saint Laurent Boulevard.
That is why I turn,
suddenly, smiling.
I follow my instincts behind
long
legs of a blonde in short shorts.
Walking up Mount Royal Avenue,
now, my chin is guided down.
I am smiling at the luck
of this street
as I am led to a view of
expansive beauty; all that
Montreal offers.
I have to look low to wallow.
I have to squint into the sun.
I have to smile beyond the passing
of frowns and a best friend;
gone. I have to look down
to the end of all streets.
To see their end
in
rivers that feed lakes.
To see that every end
continues to another.
Yes, loneliness waits,
but not at this peak.
Not now. Not for me.

narrative poem written on 07-25-2013 by: on mattkane.com
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