Québec

by Boona Daroom

Ice fills my pockets.
I’m gasoline.
I will not forget what I never remember.
The concierge is the world’s worst concierge.
My Visa is a saber tooth dining
on the throat of a Tyrannosaurus.
Our tour-guide spoke openly of vasectomy.
How Cowgirl found the bus was a miracle.
Scotsman aimed his empty pellet
at a group of tourists in the light of a pale sun.
This climate is driving me insane.
My feet cannot distinguish salt from a speeding vehicle
or home from where the world ends.
Drinking coffee without spilling
is the best I can do sometimes.
Being horny is no excuse.
Glaciers never stop moving.
A bot programmed to stack
lunch meat stacks lunch meat.
My entrée metastasis into a commando.
Its paws claw for a knife in my chest then disappear.
Mom reminded me to dress warm.
Everywhere we go we get free shots.
But now I know where I stand.



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