Saturday, May 14, 2016
11 Bayview bus, Northbound
Well well Mr Darling,
A year ago I was suffering from heat exhaustion in the subtropical climate of the kitchen I washed dishes. Today I was huddled and shivering in a wall crevice, waiting for a bus. On this side of the border, it is cold, my friend, and exceedingly hostile.
There are some other differences between then and now. You, for instance, are no longer here, making the long walk from Spadina to Broadview a lonely one.
I am no longer a dishwasher. In fact, since leaving my bussing job, I have departed from the restaurant industry all together (temporarily or permanently, who knows?). These days, I deliver packages.
That’s right, I’m a delivery man. And because I’m not officially employed, according to my contract I’m also a business owner. Everything is signed for and nothing is free.
I’m making deliveries all along the Yonge line—legal documents, dentures, etc.—actually, so far that’s about it. The upside is, when there’s no work I get to read.
Lord give me a hot day. Lord cast Toronto into the steaming basin of fetid body odour and scalding sidewalks it was meant to be, so I can spend my nights wandering in a feverish daze, letting the insanity perspire from my body, and maybe just be cured of this long winter funk.