In Memory of My Heavy Metal Years

There goes the

aluminum, the antimony, the arsenic

the barium, the cadmium,

the cesium, the gadolinium

the lead

the mercury

the nickel, the thalium, and

the tin.

There goes that job spraying lawns

with chemicals, driving the Merc

three-quarter ton

with a tank on the back

and no brakes

through West Vancouver, bouncing

the wheels against the curb

to stop

and on the steep

majesterial streets

that afford such views

that they could hire

two talentless dickbrains

to weed and feed

front and back

and back again

in two weeks.

That was a heavy metal job

that probably killed

a lot of salmon too.

There goes the shotgun

pellets from the pheasants

we shot out in Abbotsford and Langley

plucked and hung

in the concrete basement

in New Westminster

fresh

with the stink of pheasant guts.

Oily, delicious pheasants

roasted always

with a little buckshot

after a day off.

There goes those summers painting

houses with my brother

wire-brushing off

the old paint, breathing

it in on the wooden ladders

white guys working

on a tan

and saving up for the Peugot

ten speed. There goes

the seventies

out from my body.

Led Zep Humble Pie Burning Spear, and

Marley too, adidas, big E Levis

from Lee's Men's Wear on Sixth Street

there goes that brown house

paint, broken down

and pissed out.

There goes those years

beachcombing along the Fraser

from New West to Lulu Island

pulling out cedar blocks

that had floated free

from the shake factory booms.

Pulling the blocks out

of that industrial muck

grey green and foamy

down near Scott Paper, the mill

that Larry worked in until

it moved

production south.

Then stacking and drying the blocks

to split them into shakes

with a birchwood

hammer and an adze. There goes

that industrial mix

from the Fraser

from the riverbank

from the bars by the river.

There goes sucking on

a hose to get some gas into that

golden sixty-six Valiant convertible

with the leaky roof and

the 273 and putting it

right into the carb to sputter

the piece of shit to life

Again. Still, pretty great

to have a convertible with a radio

(turn the radio on

roadrunner roadrunner!)

and a five-gallon gas can

and a piece of garden hose

and a mouthful of

Regular, a mouthful of

Regular Leaded

from the Chevron

in the strip mall across Tenth Ave.

There goes working

on a printing press

under the sidewalk

of the storefront at Cambie and Hastings

that was later the Caribbean place

and is now

going to be gentrified.

There goes that time.

There goes all the shitty renos

on Broadway, on Hastings, on Commercial Drive,

there goes the dust

from that wall Mike took

down with a chain saw

when Talonbooks was above the foundry

and there goes the foundry dust

and the sweep of chemicals

that would take your head off

like six beers later at the Waldorf.

There goes the mystery

unmarked jars of cleaners and solvents and grease

that Larry nicked from the mill

and we used on the cars and bikes

and on our hands.

There goes that job at the self-serve

Shell with a car wash across from the college

when it was in temporary trailers

just to show that education

for the masses

was taken seriously.

And there goes, hopefully, the dust

and everything from that week

in September

when what was stored in the three

buildings of the World

Trade Centre was pulverized

and burnt Into the air

and Nancy and I stayed in the apartment

with t-shirts tied

over our mouth and nose

and didn't go out until

we went to Milano's

where the Fireman drank for free

with the IRA guys

leaning at the bar. There goes

that time.

There goes the

Aluminum, the antimony, the arsenic

the barium, the cadmium,

the cesium, the gadolinium

the lead

the mercury

the nickel, the thalium, and

the tin. Broken down

pissed out.

There goes those jobs, those times

there goes those relations

of inside and outside, of work

and nerves and fat and soft tissue

and synapses.

There goes that set of relations

inside and outside. There goes that body

that use and surplus