Sterling Strathcona

There is a line of people who have sat where I sit and all I can think about is how beautiful the buildings look in the light. They catch it and it warms them warms me and I think everything is peace. There is a line of people who have sat where I sit and we all dangle our feet, watch the distance fall out from under. I watch the rubber of my sole tremble and I do not remember if it is mine. All I can think is how pretty the buildings look. There is a line of people who have sat where I sit and I do not know what they thought about, sitting here, if they noticed how we are dwarfed only by the church spire, if they noticed the irony. Let’s forget. There is a line of people who sat where I sit and it stretches back to where I can see the battles carved in stone, the red brick, the slivers of light that shine through marble. I imagine someone across from me, chasmic, who waves, and I smile. The sky is streaked, the buildings are fading, if you stay here long enough you can see everything crumble. I wonder if anyone has. The light is gone. There is a line of people who have sat where I sit and the light is disappearing from the buildings, it’s moved inside, it’s moved, hasn’t it, the light isn’t fading at all, is it, there’s a line of people, I wonder how many, how many turned around, are we dwarfed by the church spire, there’s a line of people, the light, the light was warm, wasn’t it, I think the light was warm, the streaked pink, the deep blue, it is all changing, there is a line of people, will I turn around will I will I let the distance fall out from under me, it’s jumbled now isn’t it, the line, the line isn’t so clearly drawn, some turn back, some, there is a line, cracks in the pavement, they fill cracks in the pavement it’s not a metaphor I am dwarfed there’s a line of people who have sat where I sit and all I can think about is how beautiful the buildings look, look when they crumble.