Montebello, Quebec

The quiet road carries me away from Montreal

I am my own train
I’m the engine, the dining car, and the caboose
Small towns with dim streetlights
Separated by kilometers of green lantern grass and forests
A sudden density of dwellings marks the edge of town
Simply roll by
I know no one here
I’m alone
Tracking neon social signals
Maybe one with a pretty face below it
A cigarette to share and a bon jour

The watering hole is quiet
Few souls and work clothes
A local drunk welcomes all
Like kings and queens
Sylvia the barkeep
A sweetheart, gets me drunk on the cheap
Unveils the secret spots to visit
The best poutine
The Chateau Montebello
Teaches me French slang
I butcher the words with a 9th grade Spanish class effort
A desire to be from a place you’re not from
Intense and revealing
Bed by 4am
Hot and sweaty in the van by 8am
Awake to a tent city
Makeshift camps of dirty heads, punks, metal heads and hippies
The shore of the Ottawa
Thousands roar
Dance all day
All night
Sleep in our clothes
ALL! to see Descendents


Comments are closed.

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 6 other subscribers