King of Queen Street

I walked until my fingers were frozen, thin chill under moonlight, casting shadows of powerless power lines. I stand tall like the king of Queen Street, footfalls on an asphalt throne. My hometown had a kind of hollowness tonight, a wanting silence broke by rumbling generators and periodic passing headlights. Strange sigh in a welcome wandering, we all know the feeling by now. It was much the same for Arthur five years ago. The picture of Dorian is a old world rising up under a new one, instant obsolescence. I'm not one to complain about it, even as the novelty wears thin. But my life revolves around connecting to distant friends and strangers, making the faraway come near. That's a whole lot harder when the mechanisms of connection fail us. Even so, I'm all in on technology, tied to all the modern methods of sharing my adventures. Wouldn't have many of the important people or things in my life without it. Can't thank you enough for finding me here, stumbling to you through the digital darkness. Shine a light on me, won't you?

 

September 8, 2019

Bridgetown, Nova Scotia

 

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