asleep in a car…an Avenger escaping America’s storms…looking for calm on the Canadian side of a continental divide…always on the lookout…always peeping behind the curtain…where can one find a better deal…

maybe Montreal….or Quebec City…a different kind of language…but the same bohemian life…the wanderings of the soul…need not work…a steady employment…just the brush….the canvas….a full tank of gas…

what happened in the land that was never free….never trusting of it’s poets….philosophers…prophets…putting faith in politicians…salesmen….nuclear physicists….the creative condemned…

no longer are there leaves of grass…nor trips on the road….just the constant craving of self-help through false faiths which tell us…you’re never wrong…

I sit in this Avenger looking out at the St. Lawrence Seaway…it’s clear blue color…I marvel at…it has no sin…

not a dark heart like the Hudson…nor a man made hue as the Chicago…just beauty…just beauty…

and this traveler keeps traveling…maybe onto mother Russia…or Havel’s dream left behind…could pay final respects to comrade Fidel….who knows…

keep going…keep going….soon you will be home…