DESTROY PARC LA FONTAINE

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take away the tourists, the hipsters, the families

take away the seniors

take away the guitars, the bongos, the singers, the accordions

take away the homeless

take away the flowers, and lock up the mowers

take away the blind, whose vision of the place was illuminated by the smells of spilt Cheval Blanc, cigarette and charcoal barbeque

take away the water- drain it away- and plug up the fountain with cement

take away the first dates, the talkers, the shy, the too-cool-to-drink-non-organic-juice kids, the sex workers, the second, third marriages

take away the coffee cups and styrofoam boxes, wine bottles and green tops of Kiosque Mont Royal strawberries

take away the drugs

take away the music

take away the lights: Gut electricity from dépanneur fridges

take away the curd from La Banquise

you can’t take away how the light of fireworks fell through trees: How the branches split apart the light to produce nets of shadow, bending phosphorous light to tattoo blue faces black. When we met under the leaves.*

colour by Mugluck  Parc Lafontaine, Montreal, 2013. Tous droits réservés Mügluck
words by Liam Lachance

e-mail me baby

legit

They wouldn’t have found each other on a PlentyofFish search. 

          IsabelleXoxx: looking for fun
          Franco-Québecois
          22
          Likes: movies that start with credits, lobster
          Interesting Story: virginity lost on picnic table
          Interests: recommending healthy food via Facebook, diving, watching people in cafés

          MarcusForLife: LIFE IS A ROLLERCOASTER OF EMOTION    😉
          Anglo-Albertan
          28
          Likes: bloopers at the end of a solid flic, lizards
          Interesting Story: lost v-card in Diddy’s limo #SWAG (!)
          Interests: kegstands, Micky Ds, BURNINGMAN ’08-’11

No, without a mutual dentist, they wouldn’t have met, let alone shared some seriously awkward first date dialogue: To Isabelle’s story on training her husky to defecate without a raised leg, our sly Marcus responded with yeah? Only touched one, really, at dinner.

        Oh?

        Oh, ha, no: It was on vacation.

        Oh.

As though being on vacation cancelled the fact that you had eaten a dog. Committed murder- but it was on vacation! In any case it wasn’t the stuff of those Hollywood movies between attractive white kids, but maybe that was the point: The desire to know how you could live like that, eat dog, kept them talking. Part personality-colonialism, sure- how cute, you’re so abnormal– but it worked, and they snapped together like puzzle pieces that need different shapes to fit. Pieces that wouldn’t have snapped online because they would have  ticked boxes to search for themselves. For dog-eaters. People-watchers.*

artwork by Jaci Banton