For all the red in Charlottetown. For the highways and campgrounds in Thunder Bay. For the telephone lines and the railroad tracks in Saskatoon and Calgary. For the No-Fly list in Nunuavut. For the deep-winter at a playhouse in Victoria. For the so stoned in Vancouver and St. John's. For waiters and actors waiting and acting in Toronto. For graduate students in Moncton and Hamilton. For Canada Post. For the house party in Winnipeg this February. (You shouldn't have left.) For painters and editors painting and editing in Edmonton and Halifax. For Montreal when it rains, any time. For Blair, Andrea and Norah sleeping, right now. For their two yellow dogs at Blooming Point, last summer. (And this.) For the light from the light over their oven, just now. For the buzzing of their electric light in here, also now. For the waterfront, this afternoon. For the Stan Rogers Festival, near Cape Breton. (And Stan Rogers.) For all you heads, rolling your huge Canada Day joints, while your tiny flags flutter along in time. For the view from the patio into the night, out of the past. For: "That 's the prettiest thing you will see all night". (It's the moon he is talking about, because it's hung like a painting.) For walking down the upstairs. For how memory is yours to decide. (To remember. To forget.) For brotherhood. For undulating seas of red and white—everywhere and unembarrassed like the first whiff of love. For all of the failures accumulated in and of this country. For all of the trust and hope and sex and dreams too. And here, having said all that, is the Forget magazine, for once and forever from some weird Canada, it's for you, almost on Canada Day.

Published On: July 1, 2007
Permanent Location: http://www.forgetmagazine.com/070701.htm