Specks and sticks and frozen
pictures, 9 cars ditched,
erosion, scripture, 16 hours
we calmly waited, bus station
blues, dilapidated, coffee tastes
well just like cream, off that music
before I scream, Bubble Bobble,
Donkey Kong, that last egg sandwich's
holding on, and yes! she's picked up her
guitar and that guy there he run's a bar,
we got free breakfast and raced to taste
a plump Mae Wested brownie plate;
one smoke, two smokes, three smokes,
four, we broke the automatic door;
from New Brunswick, Windsor, Kitchener,
Yellowknife and Vancouver, crossing frozen
fields of wheat, the tired transmission stiff
with heat, out on these farms I'd assume cold
from which great hockey finds its mold; Red
Deer's not that far away, then onwards North
to rest and play.
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