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And this just in, late breaking news: the Soviets are on the moon. The future’s here and none too soon. We danced all night in darkened rooms.
They named a new holiday this spring to celebrate their election win. Took care to reroute the parade around the Musqueam blockade.
Red maple leaves at Rideau Hall. Red squares on sleeves in Montreal. The fire broke out when the police snatched Lady Courage off of the street.
Second generation of the occupation. Struggles no one noticed. Silence from the poets. Legislated endings justify the spending. No one else here bothers but you do it for your daughters.
The theatre of this proxy war. State-actors break character.
Latent Canadian ennui. Lord bring me back as Houdini. Easy to measure my success when failure means a drowning death. If only I could go back now, not change a thing, just write it down. A record for some future me of all the future used to be.
As of right now we haven’t heard what they’ll rename St Petersburg.