after the bars turn out their lights

last night kate and i strolled the neighbourhood, looking through people's trash.

i watch her, out of the corner of my eye. she's wearing jeans and a simple green shirt. earlier, we'd gone to the grocery store and she'd carried nothing but a small black purse made of fake- albeit good looking- leather product.

when we pass by the anglican church, i remember that i'm not wearing a bra at the exact same moment that we realize that there's a gospel choir comprised entirely of caucasians singing their hearts out in the giant interior of the church.

today i walked home with my hair loose over my shoulders. like petrarch's laura, my hair was whipped into knots of golden hue, but no pearls appeared and the wind came from a bus rather than a river. later there were shingles falling from the sky, and one lone large maple leaf on a street with no trees at all. i wasn't expecting anything more.

i want a way to capture all of this.