Weekly Poem
ISSN 2291-7942
Vol. 1, No. 3 - October 27, 2013
Edited by Kirk Ramdath

an extended transit metaphor
by John Vooys

These words of mine are like
a backpack and coat stowed on a bus seat, with meaning slouched in the
middle –
it’s not clear that they need all this space, except to hide their restlessness
and the way they shift in response to yours

These words of mine are like
the drunk men who block the rear bus door –
they’re only aggressive because you’ve looked at them funny,
and let’s acknowledge that they’re not really in control of their actions,
anyways

These words of mine are like
bus transfers –
perhaps they only carry value because society has decided they should,
but by means of them I make my way through the broadest and most
    barren suburbs and situations
and if scrutiny isn’t too close, I can use the same ones over and over and
over again


Biography
John Vooys is a Calgary resident and a recent graduate of the Alberta
College of Art + Design, and at times a poet, performance artist, choir
member, and piano teacher. He draws inspiration from countless trips on
Calgary Transit, his exalted suburban beginnings, and other plain or routine
things.
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