Rae St. Clair Bridgman
homeless inToronto
Angel
Angel homeless in Toronto
Rae St. Clair Bridgman
Angel’s story begins —
no one has a scar like this unlessgo aheadyeah someone’s tried tokill me
girl you must be here for some reasonthat’s what I keep tellin’ myselfyou must be here on this blessed earthfor some reason
A testament to the search for reason in the face of loss and sorrow, the resiliency of the human spirit, an unerring sense of hope…
Angel tells her story of a treacherous childhood, abuse and livinghomeless on the streets of Toronto. First person narrative, fragmentsof memory and free verse heighten the immediacy of this gritty yetpoignant story for young adults, which treads a fine line betweenthe sane and the incomprehensible.
Angel draws inspiration from many years of ethnographic research on chronic homelessness in Toronto.
Rae St. Clair Bridgman has authored several books, including Jimmy Tattoo: Homeless on the Streets of Toronto (2016), Safe Haven: The Story of a Shelter for Homeless Women (University of Toronto Press, 2003) and StreetCities: Rehousing the Homeless (Broadview Press, 2006), co-authored Braving the Street: The Anthropology of Homelessness (Berghahn Books, 1999), and co-edited Feminist Fields: Ethnographic Insights (Broadview Press, 1999). PRINTED IN CANADA
Rae St. Clair Bridgman
homeless inToronto
Angel
© 2016 Rae St. Clair Bridgman
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the author.
ISBN 978-0-9919011-6-6
Design & typography by Karen Armstrong Graphic DesignPrinted in Canada by Sure Print & Design
Angel is inspired by the lives ofwomen street survivors in Toronto
This story is dedicated to those who havedied on the streets
contents
1 scar __________________________ 1
2 once upon a time _________________ 3
3 somebody’s mother ________________ 7
4 hidden heart ___________________ 13
5 blue room green room _____________ 19
6 nothin’ ever changes _____________ 23
7 run away ______________________ 29
8 infirmary ______________________ 35
9 lucky _________________________ 43
10 hippo in a tutu __________________ 51
11 coffee and paper ________________ 57
12 ruby slippers ___________________ 63
13 ink blots ______________________ 71
14 1-2-Z-5-4-17-3 __________________ 75
15 them _________________________ 77
16 two weeks _____________________ 85
17 hostile hostel ___________________ 91
18 street sisters ___________________ 95
19 guest ________________________103
20 stubborn ______________________113
21 kicked ________________________115
22 cleaver _______________________121
23 graveyard of names ______________125
1
1
scar
have this scar on my foreheadhair covers it upbut when I swimwhich isn’t very ofteneveryone’s lookin’ at itI know what they’re thinkin’know exactly what they’re thinkin’
they’re whisperin’won’t asktoo scared
what’s that on her head
it’s a scar stupidI know it’s a scarbut how did she get ityou askno you askI said it first
they don’t wanna know anywayit’s obvious
2
no one has a scar like this unlessgo aheadyeah someone’s tried to kill me
girl you must be here for some reasonthat’s what I keep tellin’ myselfyou must be here on this blessed earth for some reason
gotta be a reasonwhy you’re still here
could as well be dead or worselivin’ like some jellyfishswimmin’ aroundlookin’ for somethin’ to eat like a lot of people do
3
2
once upon a time
once upon a time I was born
Toronto’s where I’m fromthis is homedon’t know if it’s where I belongbut this is where I am
a lot of places in this worldbuy a ticketget on a bushead outgot moneyit’s a free country
maybe Montrealgot a friend thereheard it’s nicemaybe some day
so yeah I was born
she was born
4
all you can say about that
no baby quiltno teddy bearno lace curtainsno music boxno pinkno pink
rock-a-bye baby on a treetopwind blowscradle dropsnice thing to sing to your kid
cradle dropsno more babyno more songno moreno more
it’s the back of a bus for meeveryone’s hackin’ and coughin’moanin’ in their sleepgrindin’ their teeth
the wheels go round and roundyou want to get off but you can’t
they stop get a coffeeeverybody looksas if they’re wishin’where eggs over-easyslop off the edges of the plate edge of the worldno centre no more
they stop get a coffeesomebody gives them to my mother
5
a bunch of dandelionsthe sun is shining on your little angel
that’s what I imagine anyways
dandelions are weedsthat’s what they saythey pesticide ‘em to deathpull ‘em out by the roots of their little yellow heads
go ahead kill ‘emyou’re only killing yourselfgoes around comes aroundoutta sight outta mindcomes and bites your bare behind
small sunsbraidin’ a gold crown
sticky bitter stem some old man he told me onces’good for warts
ghostball swine’s snout lion’s tooth cankerwortblow the puff make a wisheat the rootyou’ll piss in your bed for sure
seeds gonefloatin’ off God knows wherewhat’s leftlittle bald head all poked with holes
all’s I got my name
6
my mother gave meeverybody’s gotta have a nameor you’re not real
all’s I got my nameand this scar on my head
colicky cryin’alcoholic and colicbad combo
don’t know where she is now
7
3
somebody’s mother
it’s my son’s birthday todayhe’s a rape babyhe’s three or four maybe he’s five nowgave him upright after he’s born
picture in my walletnever show it
eyes like dark raisinsdandelion fluff hairskin smooth like inside a shell
he’ll never know who I amhe’ll make his own story
don’t know my family no onemaybe I’m standin’ right beside ‘emmaybe that guy with the red shirtmaybe that womancut lip and a bruisemaybe them don’t know
8
can’t carry on the storiesif you don’t know the storybehind the stories
can only tell my own storymy son he’ll do the same
you know those bag ladies on the streetone near Spadina and Bloorlivin’ by the church bags wrapped in ropewhole street it’s her living roomher kitchen her bedroomshe won’t come insideshe says they’ll get herif she comes insideshe won’t go with them she saysyou gotta wonder who them isuntil one day you understand
she says she’s born in Englandshe’s born again on the boat goin’ over to Canadathen she lives in Sri Lanka and she’s born againshe’s been born lots and lots of timesmaybe she’s the storytelleryou get to thinkin’what if I really am bein’ bornagain and again
stop to help those bag ladiesstruggling with their stuffask them if they need helpit’s the right thing to dothey need help gettin’ across the streetI know them
this one woman she liveson a bench at city hall withtwo pink suitcases matchin’
9
diaries in the small onethey’re all tied up in yellow ribbonher writing it’s all thin like spider legsshe writes everything downeverything that ever happens
she’s a ladyshiny nails nice jewelleryyou wouldn’t knowyou’d hardly know she’s livin’ outsideshe’s like some touristwatchin’ peoplewatchin’ all the wild things they doshe likes livin’ outside
don’t wanna be in some shelterwith a bunch of crazies
she’s carryin’ around a whole library only all the books are writtenby one person
don’t know where she is nowno vagrants allowedno driftersno beggarsno panhandlers
she doesn’t drift she doesn’t beg she’s a writer
the business type he saysrude things about bag ladies
I turn to himhe looks shockedI’m talkin’ to himcan tell he’s squirminghis eyes are darting around
10
he’s tryin’ to escape the situationhopin’ he can get rid of me with a looniecan see it in his eyes
he walks away real quicklike I’m crazyhe’s tryin’ to escape his own guiltlike it’s somebody else’s problemwhen really he should be doin’ something
they get this scaredy look in their eyeslike they already know what I’m gonna saybut they don’t want to hear me say it
they wanna run homeforget they ever saw someone livin’ on the streetsomeone carryin’ everything they own holdin’ it tight ‘causesomeone’ll steal it
this is somebody’s motherin fact maybe it’s your mothermaybe it’s your grandmother or your auntie or maybemaybe it’s your sisteryour cousinyour neighbourmaybe it’s your ex-wifeand if you don’t watch out it’ll be you
why are you makin’ fun of your own motherwhy are you makin’ cracks know nothin’ aboutyou can’t see the personall you can see is the bags
11
no matterhow many soup kitchenshow many churcheshow many reportshow many homelesshow many newspapershow many movieshow many marches
I want to make those ladies feel you’re still wantedsomeone remembers youwe still remember
you can be yourselftrue to who you arewhat’s good about you not what’s misunderstoodtake the good and the misunderstood
maybe you won’t leave anything behindto be remembered bydoesn’t meanyou don’t liveyou don’t loveyou don’t hope and dream
maybe it’s ‘causemaybe I’ll turn into one of themif I don’t watch myselfthat’s methat’s me pushin’ that shopping cartplastic bags hangin’ off every which waythat’s me carryin’ all my stuff in a suitcase
I wake up one dayI’m not gonna do thisdon’t want to be doin’ thisit’s like one of those things
12
something happenssomebody diesyou wake upyou say to yourself enough already
no big explosionno big revelationit’s a quiet thingit’s I’m doing this
you hit bottomnowhere else to go
but I keep bumpin’ into wallsyou can’t do this you can’t do thatI’m turnin’ back into somethingI don’t want to be again again again
problems don’t stop comin’problems don’t take holidaysby the time I solve my problemsthere are just more problems
13
4
hidden heart
when I’m a babythey put me in an orphanagebig stone building lotsa windowsbrick wall so highyou can’t imagine climbing itthen I go to this school with nuns
the doctors say I’m unadoptablebasically the same thing as unlovableyour own family don’t want youno one else will ever have you either‘cause someone tells themshe’s unadoptable
no room for you anywhere on this planetat least that’s the impressionwhat do you do when you’re told you’re unadoptable
those doctorswhoever they arethey’re the ones who decidethey have the powerthey sign all the forms
14
did they ever talk to meask me what I thought
look at meI’m still alivedid they think I’d give up and diemake it easier on everyone give up and die
then they won’t have to fill outno more forms for meclose my filedon’t ever have to worry about where to put her ever again
no where’s she goin’ nextno legal responsibility‘cause she up and died all by herselfthey didn’t even have a chance togive their permission
it’s easier for everyoneall you gotta dosign here on the dotted line
they’ll let her into heaven this one timespeed her on her way nothin’ left to say get out of my way
I’m sick all the timein and out of hospitalit’s my kidneysthey’re infectedmy feet swell up
no one’ll ever adopt me
at school they put me in the blue roomwhenever I do something wrongspend hours in there
15
can’t remembertryin’ to forget
can’t rememberhere and there
flash into my mindlike a slippery fishflash gone
I’m all alonewalls so thickyou can’t hear any soundsthere isn’t no windowscan’t tell if it’s night or day
stone sandpaper wallsstale breadbednot much else
someone scratches a lettercorner of the wallbehind the bednear the floorwhere no one can see it only I see it
K
play this gameKay’s my new friendwe talk all the timehave tea partiesshe likes five lumps of sugar in her teawe eat cookies the marshmallow kindcovered in chocolate
16
they never allow us to eat those at schoolbut Kay likes them a lotshe gobbles them all up
Kay don’t be greedyone cookie at a time
make up storiesread to Kayshe reads to me too
long spelling contestslet Kay win most of them though
she’s a cry-babyif I don’t let her winshe cries and criesno stoppin’ hershe kicks and screamsthey come runnin’take her away
sometimes the nuns they let ushave a dictionary sometimesKay and I play dictionary
close your eyesopen the dictionary anywherepoint your fingerkeep your eyes closed
no cheatingyou opened one eyesaw you peekingno you didn’t yes I didI’m not gonna play with you any more if you cheat
17
‘cause I saw youit’s not fairyou’re tryin’ to trick mebet you want me to lose don’t you don’t youcan’t fool meI won’t be friends with you no more
open your eyesread the wordother person spells whatever word your baby finger touchesyour baby finger
pick a wordleafin’ through the bookfind a wordguess the meaning
I’m laughin’ so hardmy sides hurt
take all the letters in the wordmake new words
Kay’s name backwards yakit’s trueshe’s yakkin’ and talkin’no tomorrow
Kay and I we laugh for hours
that’s when she isn’t cryin’sometimes she cries so muchshe can’t stop
how can she have that much water inside herI swear she can fill a pail with her tears
18
she bangs her head against the wallthat’s the worstI can’t get her to stop
19
5
blue room green room
I collect words like people collect stoneswhen they go to the beach
carry this dictionary in my pocketfound it on the sidewalkthere are words in here for things you’d never think there’d be a word fordot on the i tittleI kid you not
takes me a long time to figure out why
why I can’t sleep in the darkwhy I sleep door openwhy I can’t sleep
count backwards from one hundredwhatever else stupid thing they tell you to do
it isn’t untilI go back to Children’s Aidbig stack of papers frayed cornersflippin’ through faded ink
20
tryin’ to understandin the spacesin between all the wordswhat they write about me
date number name bornallergies medications notesplease see attachedcustody orderauthor concludesfollow upnotnotno
and that’s when I really understand why
punishedpunishedpunished
you can make a lot of words out of that onenude hipspushed inshined up
so this is the room I’m in the blue roomold yellow papersyellow like groundhog teeththey don’t say how long I’m in this roomin there more times than notKay and the tray of cold foodbut Kay she doesn’t care
if the light’s on it’s like something’s watchin’ over usguardian angelnothin’ will happen if that light’s on
21
then I have foster parentsthey’re gettin’ paidI’m like a job for themyeah I’m their jobI’m a business opportunitythey’re the only parents I haveat least the closest thing to parents
I’m sick so muchin and out of hospitalspend more timein than outneedles and tubesI’m a pin cushion
middle of the nightsomeone’s wailingend of the hallshoessqueakfade
pee only keeps so long in a roomno getting away from the smell soureven when they take the bedpan away
who’s ever in the next bedsneezin’ coughin’ moanin’
want to go home
this green lightstreet lamps comin’ through the windowsshadows ’gainst the wallgettin’ bigger and biggerthey’re gonna swallow you up
want to go home
22
day breaktrolleys joltdishes clattershadows slink off
want to go home
other kids in the roomsoon as I get to be friends with onetheir bed’s emptylike they were never there
want to go home
23
6
nothin’ ever changes
Children’s Aid Society has the powerthey’ve got a God-given right‘cause I’m a crown ward
yeah I’m wearin’ a real crown on my head a dandelion crowneveryone does what I saythey bow lowYour Majesty this and Your Majesty that
wardship means plain old hardshipthey pick youup out of any placedo whatever they want with you
all they need is a piece of paperstamp it date it sign itthey got that piece of paper
without a piece of paper you’re nothin’nobody listens
listen to that voicemy foster mother
24
get those wretched weeds off the tablehow many times do I have to tell you don’t pick the dandelionsbet your hands are all sticky now toogo wash your handsright this instant
I’m eatin’ a bowl of cerealmindin’ my own businesswatchin’ the dandelions in the cup on the tablepicked ‘em this morning before breakfastbut their heads are droopin’they’re closin’ up already
if I hadn’t picked themlet them growthe way they were supposed tothey woulda been happy
phone ringsput my spoon down
you don’t swallowso you can hear everything heart thumpin’
yes she’ll be ready that’s finenot long to pack her thingsno problem I understand
no I don’t understandor maybe I do
fly falls into my bowllegs wavin’ around
25
climbs out falls back inpick it up with my spoonput it on the tablesoggy wings
even if you’re halfway happy somewherenobody asks you do you want to stayfirst you’re here then you’re not
pack up your clothessay goodbyewhere’s your toothbrushno time to crylook under the bedsee if it’s therego outside and playthey’ll be here soonit’s not good-bye don’t worryyou’re comin’ back
but you never do
they come get usKay forgets somethingruns back inside
come back Kay
I try to tell them
they leave her behindyank my armsuitcase in the trunksee Kay’s face in the window
never see Kay again
26
they throw you somewheres elsesink or swimfly or die
you’d think they’d tell you whyyou’d think there’d be some reason
they just want to fill you up more paperit’s more proof it’s all like it or lump itgotta do exactly what they sayif you don’t like itthey won’t support you no more
for your own goodwe love youGod loves youdon’t expectsomething for nothin’what’s a little freedom for a bowl of cereal
you can’t complain about nothin’beggars can’t be choosers
we’re takin’ care of youworld doesn’t revolve around youyou should be thankful thatthere but for the grace of God
scream inside my headI’m no beggar don’t go tellin’ me can can’t do
they write it down with their fancy penswrite down what you’re tellin’ themas if writin’ it downwill change things
27
so that’s how you feelthen what happenedthat’s hard to believewe’ll look into this straight away
arrangements can be madesorry to hear thatwe’ll see what we can donow you’re quite sureyou’re not makin’ this upof course no doubt perhapscertainly definitely absolutelywe’ll see what we can’t do
scream inside my head is gettin’ loudershe’s really not listening
you’re thinkin’ about the argumentwith your husband this morningthe kids wouldn’t eat their cerealwhat should we have for supper tonightwhatever else people think about
you’re starin’ at that piece of paper on your deskyou’re starin’ at your penyou’re starin’ at the deskthe telephonethe floorthe ceilingthe clock
goddammit you’re lookin’ at the fly crawlin’ on the wallmore than you’re lookin’ at me
and you’re writin’ it all downyour head nodssympathy oozes under the doorbut it never changes
28
no point in even tryin’soggy fly in the cereal bowlnothin’ ever changes
does anybody elseever read what’s written downon those pieces of paper
you thinkthey mustbut if they didthey’d do something
it’s like those pieces of paper are blankor they’re usin’ invisible inkit disappears after you leave the roomwhatever they write downit’s like they have amnesia
you begin to thinkmaybe that really didn’t happen
well it must have happenedbecause I remember it happenedeven though everybody’s askin’ you all the timeare you sure that’s what really happened
yeah I’m sure
even though I keep tellin’ them nothin’ ever changes
29
7
run away
I go to a girls’ boarding schoolI’m nine when I go inleave there when I’m fourteen
my foster parentsI write them lots and lots of lettersthey hardly ever write back
I know they aren’t my parents obviouslybut when you got nothin’ to hold ontoyou take what you can get I’m in boarding schoolthose five years
there’s a lot of goodfirst loverthere’s a lot of badaccused of thingsslapped aroundthis place is run by nuns too
30
there’s a big dance in a weekcan’t go unless you clean your roomcleanliness is godlinessdirt’s the devil’s work in their eyes
you can’t go anywherewithout hearin’ someone talk about the danceeveryone’s so excitedthe nuns say they’ll cancel the dancebut they can’t stop the whispers
what you gonna wearyou can’t wear thatso-and-so’s got the same thingdefinitely notthat’s terrible
nothing to wearwear this beltyou can borrow it if you wantwho are you goin’ with
the nuns will die if they catch youwhat would be so bad about that
where did you get itmy sister sent it to mecan she get one for me too
I’m up real early this morningstrip the wax from the hallway floor re-wax polishfloor’s so shinyyou can see yourself in it
31
take everything out of my roomclothes shoes books papersscrubthe ceilingthe wallsthe windowsthe cupboardsunder the beddust untilevery last mouse turd’s goneput the spiders outsideroom’s so cleanlooks like there’s no glass in the windowyou can eat off the floorit’s that clean four o’clockget ready for the dancebrush my hair a hundred timesmaybe two hundredhair’s as shiny as the floorwear my favourite topblue with the big yellow flower
one of the staff comes up to mewhy didn’t you clean your room you silly girlclean it up nowor you don’t go tonight
she’s lookin’ at me likeI’m something nasty stuck to the bottom of her shoepiece of chewed gumresidue scumno one ever looked at me like that before
but I spent all day on this room
32
either you clean this roomright this minute or you don’t go
no point in lying to me girlclean this roomand the hallwayno dance for youyou shameful girl
that’s what she saysyou shameful girl
she did finish itwe saw her do it we saw herher room and the hallway it’s not fairyou have to let her go
but she doesn’t believe meshe doesn’t believe anybodyshe can see perfectly wellhow shiny the floors are
she’s a mean womanplain nasty
some things you try to understandyou go over them again and againtryin’ to figure out where the truth is
all you’ve gotis your own truth
you can’t crawl out of your own skin into someone else’s to figure outwhat they’re doin’why they’re sayin’
33
things don’t matchno way they ever willright where the black and the white meetthat’s where people get hurt
I’m obedientfollow the rulesnever get in anybody’s waymind my own business until now
I run away
wander around the streetsuntil 2 in the morningwalkin’ plain angryget away as far as I cannever goin’ back there neverthey can’t make me go backthey can’t make me
it’s summer and it’s rainin’ and rainin’I’m walkin’ through these big puddlesworms all overlookin’ for some place betterthan here
this guy stopshe’s drivin’ a rusty old blue pick-upwhat are you doin’ out here all by yourself
must look strange in my blue shirtbig yellow flower
he buys me warm foodgreasy spoon jointeggs over-easyslop off the edges of the plate edge of the worldno centre no more
34
he asks me what I’m doin’tell him what happenedhe listens really listensfeels like somebody hasn’t listened in a long time maybe never
nice eyesdoesn’t look like he’s had an easy time eitherlittle finger on his right hand’s missin’his nose it’s squashed crookedhe’s comin’ off the night shift at the slaughterhouse
it preys on your mindkillin’ things all day
drives me back early in the morningsun startin’ to come upworms musta found whatever they were lookin’ forthey’re all gone
35
8
infirmary
supervisorwhen she hearsI can’t believe you ran awayveins on her like blue rivers runnin’
now there’s a whole big investigationwhat happened why whenwe’re glad you’re safe
upshot
that woman is firedthe mean onebecause I don’t run away
you did the right thing the girls saythey pat me on the backshe never should have said thathow’d you have the guts to up and leave
join the clubI’m finally one of them
36
what did he saywhat did you saywhat did you eatwhat’s it like to be freewhy’d you come back
longing in their voices
it isn’t as if we’re in prisonbut we aren’t allowed to leave either
thou shalt not leave the schoolgirls been here for yearstheir families forget they’re alive
I run awayit’s the talk of the placeeverybody’s glad she’s goneisn’t the first time she goes after someoneeveryone else is too scared say something
that’s what some people dowherever they gospread misery
she’s probably doin’ the same thing the exact same thingto some other poor kid somewheres elseaccusin’ them like she accuses meshe’ll get away with it again and againnothin’ I can do about that
what goes around comes aroundlike killin’ the dandelions
of course I get punisheddoin’ somethin’ so stupid
37
expect to be punishedwho wouldn’t in a placewhere heaven and hell’s more realthan anything here on earth
bein’ punished doesn’t change anythingonly makes me thinkmore and more about leavin’
want to go home
they throw me in the infirmarywhat a euphemismthere’s no way anyonewill get better in hereif they really are sick
they want to make surenobody else catcheswhatever strange disease you have
don’t want to be called a liarthey accuse me of a lot of things in this placelying’s the least of itthey blame me when things go missin’a bible a pencil a shoe a ring
even if I did steal everythingwhere would I put itroom’s big enoughfor one bed one dresserhard enoughgoin’ to the bathroomto get some privacylet alone tryin’ to hide a stashthe size of a barn
don’t call me a liar ‘causeI know what’s rightI know what’s wrong
38
the infirmarywhere they punish yousolid brick walls two feet thickdoor with a small peep holeimpossiblefor any disease to get out
you can’t hear anything dead quiet
door’s lockedbut there’s a keyholeMary and Baby Jesus are hangin’ on the wallbig black crucifix underthat picture musta been there a long timecan’t see the eyes or nose of Baby Jesus any moreshould paint them backnot fair he can’t see
what’ll happen if there’s a fire‘cause prayers to the skythey aren’t always enough
take action yourselfdon’t rely on othersnot even God‘cause God if there is a God
that’s what they keep talkin’ aboutlike it’s all they think aboutGod this and God thatuntil you’d think that God has nothin’ better to do than listen to them all daymaybe they carry God around in their pocketsbecause they’re always shakin’ God in our faces
39
God must be pretty busy all the timeso many people gettin’ in troublenot a job I’d want
stuck in this stone roomwhat if there’s a fire and they forgetno one’ll hear meI’ll burn alive like Joan of Arc
soak my blanket in waterstuff it under the doorhide a cup of water under the bed in case of emergency
a concrete bedtwo blankets one skinny pillowone windowway high upthe only light in herewatch the sky and the cloudsguess what time it is
spend five days solid in this roommeals on a metal trayno one speaks to me
they take me to the washroomthey stand right therelookin’ at mewatch me go to the washroomno doors nothin’
take a bathsomebody’s with meno towels allowedsomebody’s watchin’ me the whole timegot nothin’ better to dothey think I’m gonna drown myself
40
they’re scratchy towels anywaysno soap eithermaybe I’ll eat it and chokethey take away any pleasure in gettin’ cleanhow are we supposed to cleanse our soulswithout soap
supper’s cold potatoesgrey gravygrey peasold saladlumpy bits floatin’ soup
lots of storiesabout where those bits come from
three sheets of paper and a pencilthat’s all I got
draw dandelionsstems and leaves and flowers and roots and fluffshide them under the pillowso nobody can take them
make me as small as a dandelion seedgone with the windhide in a crackthey’ll never find me
think over what have you donewhat will you do in the future
what future
41
don’t see how it’ll be any differenthad enoughruleshad enoughscrubbin’ and waxin’ all their floors
like bein’ freeand even though it’s stupid‘cause I’m only a kideven though it’s against the rulesI know I’ll try it again
one of the girls has a long skirttapes a bottle to her legshe’s real good at walkin’ that way onlythe tape tears the hair off her legsno razors to shave our legsone day she wears knee socks but the bottle keeps draggin’ the sock downas she’s walkin’they almost catch her this time
the nuns go to bedlast rounds ten o’clock
midnight partywe drink our hearts outwe laugh and giggle until six in the morning
we pretendwe’re the nuns we deliver these really long sermons about good and evilwe’re all plain old evil kidsall of us we’re goin’ to go to hellsermons way better thanthe ones we have to listen to
we know our bibles inside outthe nuns know for surethe bible saves our immortal souls with or without us
43
9
lucky
it’s rainin’rainin’ a lotI find a book of matches on the groundthey’re sopping wettry one see if it workssulphur cakes offthere’s no way it’s gonna light
throw the box in the garbage bin
garbage bin goes up in flamesyou wouldn’t believe ithow quickly that fire beginsblack smoke everywhere
I’m coughin’ and chokin’ and spittin’there must’ve been paint in that garbage binsomething for it to go up in flames that waybig orange flames lickin’ out the topthe whole thing’s gonna blow and me with it
run back into the buildingI’m yelling
44
what trouble have you got yourself intothis time
I didn’t do anythingfound this book of matchesdidn’t do anythingI swear I didn’t do anything
they accuse me of tryin’ to burn down the schoollike I have this whole huge plot goin’ or something
this is a very serious mattercannot be ignoredthis will go in your record
the big threatadd another piece of paper to your filesby your sins so shall ye reap your one-way ticket to hell
who else is in on it
there isn’t anybody else
there’s this huge conspiracyit’s so big so realthey can’t see what’s right in front of them
a scared little kid
and even if there’s a plotand even if there’s somebody else in on itthat’s the worst thing to dois rat on somebody
rat on somebodygets you killed
so I’m punishedthis time for a month
45
there’s not one piece of kindnessthere must be onethere must be one nun out there somewhereyou’d think there’d be onewho’s encouraging meit would be an act of charity wouldn’t ita good deedwouldn’t take muchoffer a little praise
I’m gonna be in this infirmaryfor a whole monthmore like solitary confinementit’s torture
nothin’ to donothin’ to readno paper no pencil either nothin’ other than nothin’and one small window up by the ceiling
I’m one of the lucky onesI’m allowedto readI’m allowedto come out of my cellgo to the basement reading roomthere’s a table and a chair
two hours is upgo back to your room
some people therethey don’t even let ’em readGod knows what they doinside their skullsI’m one of the lucky ones
46
the books are oldbooks about saintsbooks about popesbooks about sermonsI’d give anything for a dictionary
most of the time I crysometimes I cry so muchI use up all the tears
a person can only cry so muchbefore they turn into a desertmaybe that’s why I never cry again no moreall the tears are used upin that infirmary
I make up sermonsabout guardian angelsthe nuns always tells usevery child hasa guardian angel
one of those psalms God orders all the angels to guard usto hold us in their handsthey’re supposed to save us from lions and snakesthat’s the story anyway
angels of God our guardians dearprotect us all from harm and fearever this day be at our sideto light and guard to rule and guide
stop bein’ such a cry babyyou’re really beginnin’ to bug me with all your cryingit could always be worsewhat’s worseat least you’re allowed to readwhat’s the point of readin’
47
if you can’t share it with anyonedon’t know how many daysit’ll be over soon
I’m hearin’ voicesI’m hearin’ music in my earsit’s a buncha radio staticsomebody’s talkin’ right at youinside your own headI wish they’d go awayso I can be alone
it’s my own braingoin’ around and around in circles
stick us in this room where we’re all alonefillin’ our heads with stories aboutguardian angels savin’ usthey’re savin’ us sothey can punish us some more
our guardian angel is always right here with usnever doubt the angel is hereproof comes not only by sightyou’ll hear the angelor touch himwhy it has to be a him I don’t knowor you’ll smell the angela special perfume in the air
what’s an angel smell like anywaycinnamon wild roses orangesmaybe vanillathat’s a good angel smell
the only thing they don’t sayan angel might taste like something
maybe ‘cause we’d have to bite the angel’s armto know what an angel tastes like
48
all those big philosophical debates about Godthey have nothin’ on medebatin’ all the possibilities
I try listenin’I waitI wait for the weight ofan angel’s hand on my shoulderor something whisperin’be not afraid for I am by your sideas hard as I try smellin’ the airnothin’ comes to me
maybe my guardian angel’s takin’ a vacationmaybe there never was a guardian angel in the first placenothin’ sittin’ in this sorry stone room other than meno wings no feathersno dandelion fluffs either
sit starin’ at the intercomplastic box screwed into the wall up by the ceilingtry speakin’ to somebody in the next room
anybody therecan anyone hear me
this really crackly angry voice comesover the intercom all of a sudden
be quiet
no talking allowed
now that’s creepy‘cause nobody’s talked to you in daysand here’s someone shoutin’ at youbut they’re invisiblethere’s all this staticand they tell you to shut up
49
there’s no way you can talk back toa voice in a boxno body it’s just a boxdoesn’t have eyes or a facecan’t argue with a box
feel like smashin’ that boxpullin’ it down from the wallbut of course with my luckI’ll have to stay in herefor another whole month
swallow everythingbut now I can hear someonesnivellin’ in the next cell
but it’s hard to know for sure‘cause you’re too busy cryin’ yourself
51
10
hippo in a tutu
a week before I’m supposed toleave this absolutely wonderful schoolthe best school in the whole country
everything’s bein’ preparedI’m movin’ back to my foster parents’ placethat’s what Children’s Aid says
everything’s packedroom’s empty real emptylike I never lived herelike I never even existedclothes books my stone collectionall my drawings everythingtwo suitcases sittin’ in the cornerwaitin’ to go homecan’t wait to leave
my mother and father are gettin’ my room all readythey’re even gettin’ new curtains for mehigh school knows I’m comin’I’m excited
52
I’m gonna take ballet lessons againI have an old photo they took of meI look like a hippopotamus in a pink tututhis girl with these really chunky legsshe’s so happywearin’ this pink tutu‘cause she loves to dance
I’m supposed to go backbut a week before I leaveget this call from my foster mothershe calls me up on Friday night
she’s cryin’ she’s angrycan’t understand what she’s sayin’her words they’re slurrin’ togetherlike peanut butter and raspberry jammy heart starts thumpin’can’t breathethe telephone feels all slippery‘cause my hands are sweatin’ so much
you changed your mind why
what are you talkin’ aboutwhat do you mean I changed my mindI’m comin’ homecomin’ back to your placemy bags are all packedeverything’s packed I’m comin’ back
no you’re not
what are you talkin’ aboutwho told you I wasn’t comin’ backwho did you talk towhat did they sayand why haven’t they talked to me
53
no one said anything to medon’t know anything about this I’m comin’ back
but you said that you didn’t want to come backI spoke to them tonight
I want to come home
talk to your social workerfind out what’s goin’ onsomething strange goin’ onthey said you changed your mind
have to wait the whole weekend ‘til Monday morningthe office is closedthere’s nothingabsolutely nothingI can do except wait
can’t eatcan’t sleepcan’t readcan’t do anything
the first thing I do Monday morningI’m up so early no one else is awakerefuse to go to schooluntil I talk to my workerglue myself to that office door nobody can get in or out
now they hustle around lookin’ for my workerI’m sittin’ in the office on the hard wooden benchunderneath a picture of the Popethere’s this glowin’ light around himthere’s another picture of Mary and the Baby Jesus toothey’re both starin’ at the Pope
54
the secretaries they’re answering the phoneeverybody’s real busybut they keep starin’ at melike I shouldn’t be therelike I should be somewhere elseof course I should be somewhere elsebut I’m stayin’ put until I get an answer
the smell of coffee fills up the whole officeand I’m waitin’ and waitin’bell rings halls emptystill sittin’ therewaitin’ to go home
but insideI know they’re notgonna let mego home
I’m gonna have to stay at this schoolforever fever amenand they’re never gonna let me go homeand the smell of that coffee is makin’ me feelsicker and sickerlike throwin’ up
I’m all alone and everybody’s runnin’ aroundit’s me the Pope and Mary and JesusI really am in prison stuckthey’re not lettin’ me go nowhere
saw one of those paperweights in a store onceone of those dandelion puffs only it’s stuckinside a clear orbplastic or glass or somethingpreserved forever
55
it’s a little funny‘cause lots of people call dandelions plain old nasty weedsthen somebody sticks ‘em inside a clear glass ballmakes a lotta money
and the guy that’s out puttin’ weed poisonand this is the funniest thingyou know what he’s got sittin’ on his coffee tableyou know what his grandkids give him for Christmasyeah one of those dandelion tombsand he can’t throw it outmaybe if he looks at it long enoughhe’ll stop killin’ the dandelions
smash that glassfree the seeds‘cause even if they roteven if some sparrow eats themthey get chewed up by some squirrelstill one or two of those seeds will growthat’s what they’re meant to do
57
11
coffee and paper
so they find hermy worker at the schoolher name’s Cindyfinally I get to talk to her
she has an ugly brown coffee mug in her handlipstick tattoos all over itcoffee’s stinkin’ up the whole roomshe takes a sipshe’s buyin’ time
you knowwomen who wear lipstickthey swallow four pounds of lipstickin their lifetimethey don’ mean tojust happens
used to make lipstick out of whale blubbercan’t do that no morewhales they’re all gonenow they usecow brains coal tarmaybe it’s a big invisible plot kill off all the women
58
so Cindy smiles at meonly the bottom half of her lipstick face is smilingthe smile never reaches her eyes
before she even opens her mouthI can see exactly what she’s gonna saycan see it squatting there in her eyes
no you’re not goin’ back there
why not
she takes another sip from her muglike the coffee is gonna find theGod-given answer for hershe’s tryin’ to pour words into her mouth‘cause all the words in her mouth they’re dried up
she’s mumblin’ somethingher words are gettin’ blurryor maybe it’s not the wordsmaybe it’s her faceit’s turning into a blurry ballthe room is spinningmy eyes are blinkingI’m havin’ trouble swallowingmy stomach’s tight
we don’t have to tell you why simply putwe believeit would be in your best interests
then she repeats herselfas if I didn’t hear her the first timeas if I’m stupid don’t understand
we have your best interests at heart of course
59
but I did hear herI’m not stupidI can hear what she’s thinking inside her head
welcome to Monday morning Cindywhat a doozy of a way to start the weekhave a good one
what the hell kind of phrase is thatyour best interests at heartmy heart is splittin’ inside outeverything’s spillin’ out onto the floorand I’m runnin’ around tryin’ to pick it all up but it’s no use‘cause everything keeps rollin’ around and around
and if there are best intereststhere must be worst interests toocan’t have the best without the worstbut no one asked me about my interests
a kid’s just a nothin’gettin’ in the waymakin’ trouble for everyone elsethat’s what they think
you have the option of either goin’ toa new foster home or a new group home
fine if I go to a group homewill I still be able to see my foster parents
unfortunately not
good I’ll go to a group home thenthat way I don’t have to see them
and I’m thinkin’ in factI’ll disown them right nowsure seems like they don’t wanna see me
60
a big screamit’s fillin’ up my headand the scream is gettin’ biggerit’s shoutin’ why
Children’s Aid doesn’t give no answers
they have this big pile of papersit’s sittin’ right on the deskbetween you and themthat big pile of papers
everybody has the same pilethe same old ugly coffee mugbrown stain from all the bad news
and those papers they’re all about you but they won’t let you see those papersleast not when you’re a kideverything’s marked private confidential restricted access restrictive asses
everything they’re thinking about youit’s all written down in black and white
it’s like their eyes are glued to those papersthey’re fingering them leafin’ through them starin’ at themit’s like you’re not therethose papers are more real than you are
and they’re tellin’ you all aboutwhy you can’t go home
61
only they aren’t tellin’ you the real reasonlies and truths but you’re lookin’ for reasons
we have another good ideawhat would you think about this
and you can’t think about anything except one thing
this big elephant in the roomit’s standin’ right in the middle of the roomit’s takin’ up the whole roomit’s practically pushin’ everybody out the doorbut everybody’s pretendin’ they don’t see itit’s hungryit’s thirsty
who are you to ask questions‘cause the answer will always be the same it’s in your best interests
I’m lookin’ out the office windowLipstick Cindy’s voice is far awayI’m lookin’ at all the dandelionsgrowin’ free by the fencethey’re wavin’ in the windtheir yellow heads tossin’they’re wavin’ right at me they’re callin’ mewaggin’ their jagged leaves
why won’t she stopnothin’ more to talk about nothin’
stuck in this chaircan’t breathe the lipstick coffee airstuck behind glassif only I could
63
12
ruby slippers
two weeks after thatstraight back to Toronto
I’m the first person in this brand new group homesee my foster parents a few timesbut it’s not the samethey don’t wanna see meI can tellno room in their lives
I’m not allowed to goto my grandmother’s funeralwhich is a real dragshe taught me how to bake breadhow to knead it how to braid itand every time I make breadsmell the dough risin’see her hands kneadin’ the breadshe was good to me
sometimes I save a piece of bread for her the dead they need to eat too
64
my uncle diescan’t go to his funeral eitherthat’s the last straw
isn’t right I can’t go to their funeralspay my last respectsespecially when there are so fewso few who actually carewho want the best for methey look at my drawings their eyes light upgive me hope that maybe just maybea reason
for the second time in my life I run awaywant to go back home
my uncle’s the first person who evergives me a book my very ownit’s a birthday presentcover’s falling off nowWizard of Ozflyin’ monkeys carryin’ everyone offwith their big wingscopy all the picturesonly have a pencil to draw withno pens at schoolpencil’s as good as anything elsebetter in factat least with a pencil you can rub it outcan always find a pencilnothing fancynot like those pens to write all the reports
ruby slippersruby slippers
65
all Dorothy has to do sayno place like homeno place like homeno place like homeclick her heels together three timesshe’s right there
every time I see a pair of red shoescan’t stop lookin’ at themremember Dorothy
I run awayget picked up by my social worker
I can help you if you tell me what’s wrongyou know it’s not safedidn’t you hear what happened last weekyou’re lucky to be aliveeverybody missed youyou must understand
I stop listening don’t say anythingget him riledhe starts pointin’ his finger at me
running away from your problems doesn’t solve anythingwe can’t help youif you don’t want to help yourself
you have got to face upno point inthink you’re so smartyou don’tcan’t you seeif you thinkif I were you
66
big bunch of clichésnothin’ but one lecture after anotherwhat does this guy knowhe doesn’t get it
he isn’t mehe can’t possibly know
they’re always puttin’ me somewherebut they never ask me where I want to gowhat I want to do with my life
they’re squeezin’ my life in their handspullin’ it up by the roots over and overshakin’ it outdiggin’ a hole somewheres elsestickin’ it in that hole
be grateful and shut upand if you aren’t gratefulif you don’t shut upthen we’re sorrygame over
no way I’m gonna talk to this guy
refuse to talk to himthe entire drive backsit there lookin’ out the windowwatchin’ the seagulls swoopin’ overheadwishin’ I could fly
another lipstick social worker gets assignedbrings me into her officeasks me a question or twoat least she doesn’t have a cup of coffeesittin’ on the desk
she’s askin’ a lot of questions
67
same questions as beforebut this woman seems pretty on the ballmaybe something’ll happen this time
finally someone’s gonna listensomeone’s gonna do somethingthings are gonna change
then she saysshe asks sends shiversdown my back
do you know why were you in that school
you people put me thereyou’re the ones makin’ all the decisions not me
you should never have been putinto that school in the first placeit wasn’t the right school for youthey made a mistakewhoever put you in thereyou shouldn’t have gone to that school
what are you talkin’ about the right school
that school was for emotionally disturbed girlsher answer is plain and simple
they let me spend five whole years of my lifein a school I never should have been inthey told me when I went in there thatit’s a boarding schoolmy idea of a boarding schoolit’s a private schoolyou know an independent school
68
and what’s an emotionally disturbed kidsomeone who pees in the bed that’s emotionally disturbeddoes it mean you’re sickthey need to put you somewhere far away
I’m shytherefore I’m emotionally disturbedjust what are they sayin’
I spend five years of my lifein the completely wrong schoolsomebody signs a paper sends me theresomebody signs a paper keeps me theresomebody signs a paper gets me outta there
pick up one of those heavy-duty swivel chairspick it up as if it weighs nothin’my social worker she’s lookin’ right at me with her lipstick faceher face it’s nothing but a stupid maskeyeholes starin’
pick up one of those office chairs on wheelsfake leatherlittle rubber wheels spinningthey don’t know which way to turn
heave the chair at that pile of papersnever want anything written downabout meagain
not unless I say so
69
walk outta that officeno lookin’ behind slam the doorlast I see of her
hey you’re not supposed to shootthe messengerit isn’t her fault
nobody ever apologizesnobody ever says I’m sorryeverybody’s too busy pushin’the pile of papersso they don’t have to deal with someone like you
too late nowwoulda shoulda couldabuild the wallhigher and higheryou can’t see over it no more
71
13
ink blots
four of us in this group homefeels like familyI have a small bedroompin up my drawings
Uncle John and Aunt Leona they’re nicethey have an adopted daughterlittle younger than I amthere isn’t any shoutin’that’s new
learn how to make spaghetti sauce and roast garlichow to make pickles from baby cucumbersthere’s always lots to eatfor a change
by the time I move in hereI’m already tryin’ acidalready drinkstart goin’ to high school and dealin’ drugsbegin hittin’ the bars
72
first couple of years of high schooldon’t do very wellI’m not a quick learnernothin’ goin’ in therenothin’ anyone says no difference
Mme. Sardou’s shoutin’ at meshe’s asking me a questionshe’s leanin’ over my deskglarin’ at meher breath stinks of old coffeeshe’s shoutin’ in Frenchsome pretty choice wordsjudgin’ by her expression
sit there lookin’ down at myje ne sais pas je ne sais pas je ne sais pasfor good measure Ich weiss nichtone of the girls in the group home she speaks Germanshe’s teachin’ us a little
Mme. Sardou thinks I’m swearin’ at hermakes me stand in the corner by the garbage canput my head against the wallstand there with my back to everybody
school counsellor shows mea bunch of ink blots
big pieces of papersomeone spills the inkdidn’t clean up the mess tell me about this picturewhat do you think it is
looks like somebody’s throwing upsplat on the floor
73
anything else
two people kissingdon’t knowtwo ink splotches
try using your imagination
okay use my imaginationI got an imaginationwe all got imaginationshumans got 50 percent of the same genes as a banana99 percent of the same genes as a mousewho’s to saya banana and a mouse don’t have imaginations either
looks like an alien space shipmaybe some kind of insectit might eat me up
yeah it’s a flowera venus flytrapthat’ll eat you up if you’re a bug
it’s some kind of amazing diamondyou could get a lot of money for itnope looks like a frogor a motorcyclelooks like a bird actually it’s two birdsand they’re fightin’ over a grasshopper
actually I don’t see nothin’
she’s busy writin’ everything down againit’s not like there’s a right answerit’s all a bunch of choicesit’s a lotterysure would be nice to know ifyou’re on the right track or not
74
nice to knownot that you’re the same as everyone elsebut you’re not way out there weird either
they’re lookin’ to see how psychotic I amthat’s the game
is she getting confusedhow rational is shehow does she think
the pile of papers is gettin’ bigger and bigger
what if they spent as much bloody timeactually helpin’ peopleas they do writin’ down stuff about them
could as well be lookin’ atthe cracks on the wallthe scuff marks on the floorthe coffee stains on the deskas those ink blots
somebody’s makin’ a lot of money from these blotsthey sure as hell have a pile of paperall that writing they doeverybody’s gotta have a job
whatever they thinkwhatever they’re findin’ out about methey’re probably makin’ up a lot of thingslike I’m makin’ up all those things abouttheir precious little ink blots
75
14
1-2-Z-5-4-17-3
I’m always drawingevery chance I get I drawdraw doodles on any old scrap of paper
they’re always telling me I’ll never be an artistalways being told I’ll never amount to anythingnever go anywherenever do anythingjust plain gonna be deadthat’s all they say
I’m livin’ under a rockno sunlightcan’t crawl outburied alive
no one’s out there for memake your own joymake your own luckno one else is gonna make it for you baby
what if someone had actually wanted mewhat if I hadn’t been sickwhat if I neverwhat if everything was different
76
not like you can erase your memorieseven if you want tonot like you can turn the clock back
yeah it could be bettercould always be worse too
could be damaged for lifebe psychiatric for the rest of my lifeso druggeddon’t even know I’m human
or I could be plain deador could be servin’ years of jailwith no chance of never
why be angryplay that boring old blame gamewhen it could be as easy as 1-2-3everybody else’s makin’ it 1-2-Z-5-4-17-3
basically it all comes down towhatever doesn’t kill youmakes you stronger
girl you’re here for a reasonyou may not know what it ismaybe you’ll find out years latermaybe you’ll never know
I’m still tickin’
77
15
them
I’m in this independent program in Children’s Aidit’s supposed to be a steppin’ stone help youlive on your ownsupport yourselftake care of yourselfI’m seventeen
instead of bein’ under a rock all my lifeI’m makin’ progressI’m on my way somewhereheadin’ to better thingsI’m jumpin’ over the rainbow
I’m goin’ to schoolget a jobdo normalmake something ofthis life of mine
they’re gonna help me with my schooling‘cause I’m goin’ to university or collegepsychology or sociology
we’re very pleased you’re goin’ to collegeexciting idea well worth pursuing
78
you have potentialwhy don’t you contactof coursedemonstrate financial responsibilityplenty of time to discussperhaps we can that’s definitely probably a possibility
I’m really excitedfor the first time I have a plangonna make something of this life of mine
day I turn eighteenI’m literally cut off from Children’s Aidjust like that
cut offno ifno butno moneyno nothin’no place to staykicked out
it’s two weeks before I’m eighteenand this is the notice they give methis is what they say
in two weeks’ timeyou have to be out of this house
they changed their mindthat’s all I can say about that
don’t know why‘cause as far as I knowthis isn’t supposed to happen
it isn’t my workerdon’t know who it is
79
it’s themwhoever them isthe same old them
themhide everything under a rock wordit’s like a marshmallow got no centre
it’s always in the mailit’s always don’t call us we’ll call youif you need assistanceplease call 1-800 mumblemumblemumbleplease press 1 please press 2for more options please press 3if you know the person you want to reachplease dial the number nowloopdeloo around and aroundsomething goes wronggotta be strongso long so long
don’t get ithow they can be sayin’ one thingjust like thatit’s a completely different story
only it’s my story
it’s like talkin’ to somethin’ with two headssaw a sheep skeleton once had two headsin some museumthat’s what this is likethose heads are lookin’two completely different directions
turns outall I’ve got is
80
a ghost of a plan
slam
I’m lookin’ at another pile of papers againblack and white gobbledygook
it’s somebody newsomeone I don’t knowshe’s my ninth or tenth social worker
doesn’t look any older than meso here I am lookin’ at this workersure enoughsame old coffee mug with Cindy on itthink I’m seein’ déjà vulaughin’ to myselfuntil I hear her say I’m sorry
and I’m afraid she’s gonna tell memy other worker’s deadshe looks through my papersshe’s frownin’she’s lookin’ way too serious
Children’s Aid has come to a decisionthey are closing your case
her voice sounds real far awaylike it’s comin’ from inside a sardine can
I’m starin’ out the windowlike I always do‘cause you can breathe out there
don’t see any dandelionsthey’re buried under the snow
81
know they’re out there somewherewhat I wouldn’t give to see a dandelion right now
and I’m tryin’ to listen real carefully to the wordsthe words comin’ out of her mouthbut they sound like they’re from some place that hasnothin’ to do with me
we can’t possibly supportyou’ve had plenty of opportunitythere are so many others whoI’m sure you’ll be ablecertain responsibilitiesI’m sure you understandyou’re eighteenyou’re free to leaveplans in placecustody dischargedsign here on the dotted lineso everything’s clear
she’s waitin’ for me to say something
buzzin’ in my headscrewed again
what plans are you talkin’ aboutI’m thinkin’ in slow motionyeah but free to go wherewhat does free meandoesn’t free mean havin’ a choicewhat kind of a choice do I haveif I don’t have any money
I’m left holdin’this white piece of paper
82
dear so-and-sorip it up
shoulda kept it for posterityfor historyin case‘cause you’d have to read it to believe it
I’m supposed to havea plan for where I’m gonna livea plan for a source of incomea plan for where to godentistdoctorcounsellinglegalservicesyou name it
try to make some phone callshave some friends stayin’ withan uncle or a grandmotherno room at the inn
gonna get a place with a friendwe go lookin’ at apartmentscan swing it if I get a jobpillowcases and knives and forks and spoonsmy foster mother she’s got extra sheetsthis is gonna be okay
my friend ends up movin’ backwith her dad and stepmotherit all falls through
I go lookin’ for workhelp wanted apply withintake a deep breathwalk inask to speak to the managerlike you’re supposed to dohand in my resume all typed up it’s perfect
83
but they’re lookin’ at meand I can see the no in their eyes
have you had any experience
how am I supposed to get a jobso I can get some experiencewhen I don’t have any experiencebeyond meeven though I can typeI can sewI can cookI can do all these thingsit still isn’t enough
have lots of experiencetoo much in factguess it’s not the kind they’re lookin’ for
of course being a drug dealer doesn’t countnot in this world no matter howyou slice it or dice it
entrepreneurial spirit a must checkfinancially accountable you better believe itcustomer relations experience an asset yupprepare to be part of a global network of distributors okayflexible hours must be self-motivated definitely
legals get in the way of coursewrong means to an end
nothin’ worse than havin’ people look at you like you’re a nothin’
84
they actually send me this birthday cardfour-leaf clover big smile on its faceit’s a cartoonopen the card upit plays Happy Birthday
now that you’re an adult good luck!we thought you might need a four leaf clover lucky wishbone horseshoe lucky 7 dicebut we realized thateverything you need is right inside you
yeah right
that’s all I need to get bydon’t need a place to livedon’t need fooddon’t need any cash before I crash
85
16
two weeks
two bloody weeks to find a placejust isn’t workin’ outnot for lack of trying
sometimes the universedoesn’t go your wayyou’re buttin’ your head against a wallso thick so tallno way you can climb over itno windows no doors no cracks
so you say hey go around this wallbut you look left and rightwall goes for miles and miles
so you say hey dig underneath this wallbut you don’t have a shovelall you got is your bare hands
you keep hopin’‘cause a bottle of hopethat’s all you gotthat and a few books
86
couple of old photosyour drawingsfour school trophiesshirts pants jacket socksa hat if you’re luckya toothbrushone pair of shoes
it’s not a case of you can’t always get what you wantit’s more like you can’t even get what you needthat’s what’s happening to me
apply for 25 jobs in 10 daysmaybe it’s 26 or 27it’s all gettin’ to be a big blur anyway
thank you for your interest we certainly appreciatewe’ll let you knowwe’ll keep your resume on filea pleasure to meet youthank you for coming
it’s startin’ to feel as if there’s no place for youanywhere on this whole godforsaken planet
have no money comin’ innot enough to payfirst and last month’s rent
havin’ trouble imaginingwhat I’m gonna dowhere is this story goin’
no idea
I can draw a pathand it looks realcan draw what I want
87
but what’s it mean
when I leavethe only person to turn to my foster mother
hi it’s meoh it’s you silencesucks everything up
I can hear the questionsthey’re strangling in the telephone wires halfway between here and there
why’s she phonin’always somethingwhat does she wantmust be in trouble again
explain the situationhow I have nowhere to gookay if I stay with you for a few days until I get my own place until I get on my feet
got a couple leads on a jobhave this friendactually she’s a friend of a friend I’m hearin’ about this other place soon
sounds pretty feeblewouldn’t believe it myself actually
silence
gotta say something
88
or I’m gonna getswallowed up by that silencethere won’t be anything left of me
she always sighslike a saggy stockingwith a gaping hole in it
any hope you mighta haddrops out rolls into the ditch
she gets off the phoneshe’s talkin’ to my fatheronly I can’t hear the wordsbut I’m hangin’ on to the other end of the phone linefeelin’ like one of those bats upside downI’m hangin’ on by one claw
she gets back on the phone
big sigh
okay you can come here for a few dayswe’ll see how it works out
thank you
this isn’t rocket scienceknow how it’s gonna work outnot a lot of optionsbeggars can’t be choosers
we’ll see how it works outturns intoI gotta get outta hereas soon as I walk in the door
89
memory chainssame old noisy clock by the front doorsame old crucifix hangin’ right beside itfly speck on Jesus’s noseOur Lady of Perpetual Cabbage soupsimmerin’ on the stoveI’d be willin’ to swear it’s the same soupthat was cookin’ on my last visit
same clock same cross same pot same soupwelcome home I say to myselfit would be nice if somebody else said itbut it’s obvious no one else is gonnaso I do the honours
nothin’ I say seems to make things better which is too bad‘cause I try to cleando the shoppin’keep askin’ if I can helpeven clean Jesus’s nose
I can’t do anything rightthey’re criticizin’ everything
don’t know what Children’s Aid saidmust have been some pretty bad stories
always two sides to a storyalways three or four or five sideshexagon storiesstories inside stories inside stories
just ‘cause you have a pile of papersdoesn’t mean your side of the story is true
my foster parents and mewe don’t really like each other I guessthey’re the only family I know
90
they try to correct methe clothes I’m wearin’the people I’m withthe books I’m readin’how I use my knife and forkit’s like they can’t help it
it isn’t workin’ outand we all knowit can’tit won’tit’ll never work out
my foster mothershe’s actually the oneshe calls this hostelto see if they have space
don’t know what to expectno one knows who I amdon’t have to live up to anyone else’s expectations
looks like a pretty ordinary brick buildingthree stories tallschool across the roadbig treeskids playin’ ball hockeythey’re yellin’ and screamin’all looks pretty normalpretty ordinary outside
but it’s pretty scary inside
91
17
hostile hostel
why the hell am I heregirl you better turn around right nowand I mean right now‘cause you don’t belong hereno place here for you either
but I’m already steppin’ inthey shove this form into my handsign here on the dotted line
someone’s screamin’ at her husband go to hellonly she’s talkin’ to thin aira woman’s cryin’ in the corner
someone else paces looks at me saysif you don’t watch outthey’ll take you awayso you better listen to medo what I tell you
this place is a nuthouse
92
someone’s stolen my glassesmaybe I lost ‘em can’t remembercan’t see mucheverything’s a big blurry smudge
can hear this woman growlingshe’s growling at megrowling in the back of her throatlike a dog growlingif you take its bone away
the place smells ofcigarettes and bleachsoup and bread
without that soup I probablywhat with that woman growling at meI’d be out the dooron the street tonightdoin’ God knows what
takes a couple days to get new glassesthe very first staff member I actually seeher name’s Sarahshort red hair and too many rings to countin her ears on her nose her eyebrow her lipnever seen so many earrings on one body before
she’s sittin’ at the dining room tablefifteen women sittin’ around therethey all look up at me at the same timeI start backin’ away
Sarah says come join usintroduce you to everybodyshe smilesand there’s this other womansittin’ beside herher name’s Catherine
93
she’s the growlerand she starts growling at me again
does this woman even know how to talk
I look at herdon’t want to get too close to herone scary woman
this Catherine keeps growling at meit isn’t a game it’s for real
remember Alice in Wonderlandremember the part where Alice saysI don’t want to be around mad people
and the Cheshire Cat says you can’t help thatI’m mad you’re mad we’re all madand Alice she says how do you know I’m mad
cat says you wouldn’t be here thencat says I growl when I’m pleasedwag my tail when I’m angry
but a dog wags its tail when it’s happygrowls when it’s angry
that’s what this was likeas upside down as Alice in Wonderlandmaybe this woman is actuallyglad to see mebut this woman’s definitely not purring not by any stretch of the imagination
and she can speak all rightshe has more than a few choice words for meshe doesn’t even know meI’m too scared to answer backbut I swear I can match herword for word and then some
94
all week she growls at meafter a week I look at hersay yeah okayafter a monthwe’re best friends we’re inseparable when I finally get my glasses backright as you walk in the doorhangin’ on the wallthere’s a quilt somebody donatedone of those home sweet home quiltssomebody must have spent hours on ittiny stitches
bright yellow flowers and jaggy leaveseven if I couldn’t see themwhen I first walked in the doorthere they are my dandelions
95
18
street sisters
Catherine and mewe’re street sisters nowfamily outside a family
there’s a feeling you havefor somebodygoes beyond
when everybody else has disowned youor you’ve disowned themeven friends you thought were friendsthey’re bad-mouthin’ you behind your back
your street sisterthat’s the only family you have
whatever happens they’ll be there for youthey’ll always be there for you
your street sister and street brotherwill protect youif you get charged they’ll jump inthey’ll say no it was me who did itshe’s innocent it was me
96
this is what Catherine doesI do the same for her
we’re inseparablewe talkwe arguewe probably argue more than we talk
whenever we get into an argumentit’s scary like two catsspittin’ hissin’ caterwaulin’everybody stays away‘cause no one wants to get between us no one
and then it’s all overeveryone brings usback together again
why was I so angry with you she askslike she can’t rememberand I sure as hell can’t remember
all you know is thatyou were really angryabout something or otherbut now you can’t exactly remember whyand now it doesn’t really matter anywayeven though at the timeit was the most important thing in the worldlike the entire world was gonna blow up
I don’t knowcould be anythingI said somethingyou don’t want to hearI did somethingyou don’t want me to do
I know you’ll always come back
97
we have a pet rat named him Alfredhe’s brownlooks like he’s wearin’ white glovesfunny we’re keeping a rat like a kingwhen where we’re stayin’ isnothin’ but a cockroach hotel
turn the light off at nighthundreds of ‘em crawl outis it us or the cockroaches sign the leaseit’s more their place than ours
I’m getting so sick of macaroni and cheesecan’t even take a mouthful of the stuff not without gaggin’can’t even look at the outside of the package just barely
Catherine has a lot more than I ever hadshe has a familyshe has people who love her
around CatherineI’m somebodyI can do thingsI have ideas
there are a lot of good timesand a lot of sad times too
we face an awful lot of deathsthat’s the thing about the streetit’s a hard life
our friendsdon’t know how many funeralslose countyou’re always thinkin’there but for the grace of God‘cause that could be you
98
it’s a flukeI’m still here
hard when you know someone died alonethere wasn’t even anybody there in the endeverybody should have somebodyto hold their hand
mark their passing
but when somebody dies on the streetthey die alone
maybe they’re livin’ in a lean-tounder the overpassdie from the coldmaybe they’re muggedleft to lie in the streetget run over by a streetcar
maybe they jus’ plain give upcheck outta this hotel
it’s full-time work survivin’
my friend Frankie’s goin’ to jail againshe’s been in and out so many timeswe’re all losing countFrankie’s laughin’ and tellin’ me she’s gonna go kick a few tires‘cause Lacie her loverLacie’s back in jailthey wanna have Thanksgiving together
how’re you gonna do thatwhat do you mean you’re gonna kick a few tires
she laughs againwatch me
99
doesn’t Frankie begin to holler and shout and screammake a real scenecrowd’s gatheringeveryone’s starin’ at her
run around the corner don’t want any part of itFrankie’s kickin’ some shiny red car on Queenfriekin’ car alarm goes offbuzzin’ and honkin’ and beepin’we’re in the middle of a warand maybe we arekicks it three or four times before the copspull up handcuff her haul her off to the stationI’m watchin’ from around the corner
and Frankie she waves goodbye to me she flashes me this huge smilemouths the words good-bye
she’s gonna shoutLacie honey I’m homeas they bring her inthat’s the kind of person she is
last time I see Frankie alive
she loves drawing wolvesshe did one of a wolf howling at the moon
if you ever hear a wolfmoanin’ at the moonyou’re hearin’ somethingten thousand years oldonce you hear it you never forget it
can hear that wolf of hers howlin’gives you the shiversthat wolf is starin’ right straight through you
100
jail’s like a retreat for herlike some kinda holidayno worryin’ aboutwhere’s your next meal comin’ fromwhere you gonna sleep tonight
take a holiday from beggin’at Yonge and Bloorpanhandling’s outlawed no loitering it’s a crimecops tell you move along move alongno room for you here in this cityget invisibleget lostget dead
Lacie’s still hookin’ the last I hearFrankie she’s deadshe’s stabbedthey think she’s somebody elsedrug deal gone badshe knows the oddsbeats ‘em for a while
another hopeless homeless statistic
never forget full wolf moonthat’s how I remember herthat’s how I want to remember herI’m sure that’s how she wants to be remembered
Catherine dies too cause unknown
she’s a year younger than mewe spend a long time together on the streetsshe never tells me everythingabout her lifealways thinking she will
101
we’re never loversalways thought one day we would
she never tells me the story of her lifepeople think we’re real sisters we braid our hair the same waywear the same kinds of clothespeople think we’re twinsthey can’t tell us apart
if no one remembers usif we don’t remember ourselveswhat then
livin’ on the streetyou never get the dirt outfrom underneath your fingernailssometimes the only thing you can do is act crazymaybe people will stay away from you
I’m hooked on alcoholeverything keeps goin’ back and forthlike a see-saw I stop drinkin’ for a while start againstop
you’re so stuckno point in changin’thinkin’ about changing‘cause everybody else around youthey’re doin’ the same thingthis is the way it isthis is lifethis is your life nothing elsenormal is ten in the morningpassed outwearin’ the sameclothes for days
102
‘cause you haven’t bothered taking them off
you don’t even noticestink of old pukethat stink is youyour hairyour shirtpuddle of sick on the floorcan’t smell it
no more
103
19
guest
I been raped twice
and now it’s three times
the first time it happenswhen I move back to Torontogo downtownand this guy has a bottlewe’re sittin’ there in the parkhe says he’s gonna walk me back to the subway
nobody around
he knocks me over the headdrags me into an alleyway
the second time it isn’tan actual rapeit’s an attemptedbut it’s close enoughby another friend’s boyfriend
you’re askin’ for itno I’m notI kick him hard
104
and then the third timeget hit on the headknocked out again
105
I get upget dressedlook at himscar on my head
throbs
106
don’t say a word
107
he won’t even look at meleaves
nothin’ left
I see it
the dandelion growin’out of a crack in the pavement one flower lookin’ right at me
pick up the spill from my purseyellow comb two teeth missin’only now three teeth missin’drug prescriptionmoney gonecigarettes gonehey still got my free French fries coupon guess he missed that
the flowerso soft
stumble over to one of those places on Yonge Streetwhere eggs over-easyslop off the edges of the plate edge of the worldno centreno more
woman behind the counter looks at mebrings mehot barley soup brown toast
on the house honey
sometimes people do good thingsjust not enough to make up for all the other times
108
funny thing ishave to get up the next daygo to the universitytalk about homelessness in a sociology classI’m it I’m the guest speaker
feel like a real pile of shitall I know is I have to concentrate
I’m gonna call this woman up and tell herI can’t do itcan’t make itto the universityto do the speechthat’s all I’m gonna sayand I’m gonnathank herfor invitin’ me
then I say to myselfgotta do itgotta do thisgotta get outta herethis is my only reason forgettin’ out of here
I go there I do itstand there in front of all these studentsthey look like they’re still in high schoolhere they are in this class that’s teachin’ themwhy the poor are poorthey’re readin’ the booksthey’ve never lived there
so I try to tell themwhat it’s liketo be homelesswhat it’s like to live on the streethow you eat the half sandwichthrown in the garbage
109
how you eat the packages of ketchup from that restaurantcheck the dumpster behind the grocerysurvive every little you cantell them how you think you’ll never get off the streethow you keep tryin’ and tryin’but everythin’ pulls you down
and I tell them how you never have enough money forfirst and last month’s rent so you end up livin’ fromhostel to hostelcorner to cornerwhen you get some moneyspend it fastso no one robs youor help a friend out of a tight spotthat’s where the money goes
I tell them how you sleep on so many sofasso many places you lose trackevery time you movelose something elsethere are pieces of you all over the city
and when the students askhow did you get off the streettell them how it wasn’t easy
it’s a lieshould be tellin’ themI’m still on itI can’t leave
once you live on the streetonce you’ve been a street personyou’re always a street personyou never forget itit’s always inside youyou never forget your friends
110
you never forget the ones who are dead nowyou never forgetbecause you never know if you’re gonna end up there againyou’re the one they’ll find
maybe you only stop bein’ a street personwhen you stop carin’ about your street friends
I’m not thinking
I’m not thinking aboutwhat he did to me
I’m a wreckI don’t know what to do
there’s only one person who knowsI’m havin’ a babyI’m hiding my pregnancywearin’ baggy clothesno one knows and when the day comesthis good friend of mineshe’s in the delivery room with me
have to argue with the doctor and the nurses toallow her to come init’s a Catholic hospitalit’s supposed to be the man
don’t have a man hereI want her
she can’t come in
she’d better come in or I’ll do everythingin my power tonot have this kid
111
I’ll lock myself somewhere in a washroomI don’t carethat woman has to be in here
so they finally allow her in
she has four kids herselfit’s the first time she’sever seen a baby bein’ born
say goodbyesign on the dotted line
113
20
stubborn
this women’s sheltersomething’s changing I’m helping the staffI want to stay hereI’m cooking the dinnerscauliflower cheese soupdandelion saladpick the dandelions myself
I’m cleaning the placedoin’ anything to stay
so they won’t kick me out
whenever someone says I have to move onI say I’m gonna go to the streets
we’ll find you another hostelwe’ll send you over
fine goodbye pack my bags walk out the door
114
here’s some bus ticketstake care of yourself
keep your bus ticketsgive ‘em to somebody who really needs them
aren’t you goin’ over to the other placewe phonedtold them you’re comin’ over
I’m not goin’ to another hostel
sometimesactually most timespeople don’t listenthey get it in their own mindwhat’s best for youonly what they’re tellin’ you to doit’s really what’s best for themwhat’s easiest for them
why don’t youif I were youbut it’s mostly do as I saynot as I do
115
21
kicked
meet this woman at a partySybil’s her name
friend introduces usyou two will hit it off she says
this woman has a great crooked smilelike she’s holdin’ a secret inside
my husband beat me says Sybil pretty badthey want me to press chargesdon’t ever want to see him never againnot for the rest of my lifeI up and left himwalked out one day with my suitcasehaven’t seen him since
Sybil and mewe both like the same ice creamyeah we’re livin’ on the street
116
eatin’ rocky road ice creamalmonds with those small marshmallows
we have a great time for a whileyeah until it starts turnin’ uglyand I’m regrettin’ we evergot together in the first place
she’s sickreally sicktakes a while to realize it
have so many problems of my own blinds me to the fact she’s drinkin’ more and more
the whole thing’s falling apart
things turn really badshe’s jealousshe’s accusin’ me of goin’ behind her back
I’m not seein’ anyoneno way I’m seein’ anyone else
you’re lyin’I can tell when you’re lyin’how’d you think I wouldn’t know
if you want to go screw around behind my backthat’s itthat’s the kiss of deathand if you think I’m gonna wait
she’s on a rantno reasoning with her
can’t figure out whymaybe the alcohol’s destroying her brain cells
117
one of those things that haunts youuntil your dyin’ day
what have I done to deserve thiswhat have I done to deserve anything
the world doesn’t owe you nothin’up to youmake the most of what you gotnobody else’s gonna do that for you
and if you don’tif you want to screw aroundwho am I to stop youshe turns blue in the facefrom all the lies
I’m a beaterI abuse herand every other bad thingunder the sun
the more I hack away at the liestwenty more like itthere’s no stoppin’ her
can hardly put one footin front of the othershe’s harassin’ me so much
when I finally moveI can breathe againget accepted into university
quit drinkin’ thank God my life is startin’ to turn around
but she’s followin’ meshe’s callin’she’s makin’ my life hell
118
I’m at the universitygo to the washroom after classit’s a night classsociology course on deviance
what’s normal what’s deviant what’s criminalwe’re talkin’ aboutall these mental disordersall these crazy things people do
I come out of the bathroom stallshe’s there waitin’ for meshe doesn’t say anythingstandin’ there lookin’ at meit’s creepyshe’s gonna kill me
she knows where I am and she’s standin’ there waitin’ for meno one else aroundshe musta followed me to school
I have to quit
it’s a long road from the streetkeep lookin’ over my shoulder every secondwonderin’ if she’s gonna jump out at me
move again‘cause I can’t take it no more
one day she up and leavesshe’s goneit’s over
but I keep lookin’ aroundsomebody’s watchin’ me
119
Sybil’s behind that treeshe’s standin’ there when I turn the cornershe walks in the door of the laundromatand I’m foldin’ my clothescatch her out of the corner of my eye
my insides pitch
it’s always somebody else
I’m jumpin’from hometo homelike a frogfor yearsno safe place
121
22
cleaver
I’m workin’ at a shelterone of the bag ladies comes in it’s Hazelyou have to go through her every bagevery last thing she’s carryin’ is brokenyou’re lookin’ for weapons spray cansknives drugs rotten food oven cleaneranything lethal you name it
here’s a pork choppetrified green lookin’ like a semi-precious stone
you need this
yes
it’s so hardit isn’t gonna decay anywaycrystallized like a chunk of jade
one night a woman threatens tokill one of the staff members
122
I walk in between
give me the knife
she’s screamingbreathin’ heavy
I grab her armgrab the cleaver withmy other hand pull it away
someone’s callin’ the policecritical incident that’s what we got
I walk away with the cleaver
she follows me
I look aroundI turn aroundI look her straight in the eyemy voice is flatit’s not loud it’s not softsay it casually as if it’s something you’d say any timeno one would think twice about itlike please pass the pepper
and this is what I sayplain and simple
if I see you pick up another knife hereI’ll chop your hand off
she looks at the cleaver in my hand backs off
123
threaten her with the same thingshe wants to give other peopleit works sometimesnot all the time
depends on the situationdepends on the individualdepends on the winddepends on how the stars line updepends on how the sausages fall into the saucepan
what works tomorrowwon’t work tonightwon’t work yesterday
you get an extra senselike your nose hairs tickleor a spot on your arm goes itchyyou know you better be careful
talk ‘em downcool the airconnectwhatever level they want to connectsomebody else is standin’ by the phonein case they really need to phone 911 just in case
125
23
graveyard of names
all those people you meetnever see again
I’m walkin’ down Yonge Streetthis truck pulls up beside methis guy’s drivin’ a truck of flowersrolls down his window saysyou doin’ anything tonight miss
no
hard question to refuse sometimesneed the moneymust be the smell of all those flowersI climb into the truck
whole truck smells like a flower gardenroses and daisies and liliesand a real fancy onehe tells me it’s a bird of paradise nice name
126
long beakcrown fire orange arrow-shaped blue tongue
he’s lookin’ for a good luck pieceI’m his good luck pieceso he buys mea steak sandwich fries chocolate milkshaketakes me to the racetrack
he wins in five races thousands of dollarshe passes me five hundred bucksbuys me a case of beer gets me a hotel room for three daysit keeps me goin’
I’ll remember himif I ever see him againhe laughs when I tell him my name
go by a lot of namesdepends who I’m with what I’m doin’one way or otherdrive the suits and their computers nutsthey can’t find menot unless I want ‘em to
depends how long someone knows youwhat they call you
if you got a secret namethey can’t curse you kick you beat you down‘cause they don’t know your name
Kay Sarah Gracie Lori Barbwhatever
127
Angel that’s the one my parents gave me
but I ain’t no holy saintangel means messengermaybe that’s what I am
maybe I’m a messengerbut a messenger’s gotta have a messagesomeone wants to hear it
don’t give upyou can’t give upgive up and that’s itgame’s overno more dandelion salad
you’re here for a purpose girleven if you don’t know what it isyou won’t ever knoweven if you trythat’s the funny thingthe joke’s on youyou’ll never suck out the end of the story outta the melon
you’re always comin’ in the middleyou’re always leavin’ in the middle
you can only say a name so many timeslife’s only gotso many heartbeatsso many breaths
name gets worn outlike an old sock with a hole
128
your name drops out onto the sidewalkand you hardly notice it’s gone‘cause everybody calls you something else
someone finds itputs it in their pocket forgets about itfalls out in the laundromatthey sweep it up in the dustpan
they throw your name away
somebody else comes alongsteps on your name squashes the whole thing
it’s a dead name nowgoes to wherever dead names go
names like dandelion seedsevery time someone reads your name every time someone writes itevery time someone whispers sings shouts curses itevery time someone hears your nameanother seed lifts offdrops inside the crack of the curbthe city is my mother
when your name’s all used upwhen the jar of raspberry jam is an empty smearwhen you chew the last slice of bread when the milk’s all gonelast squirt of ketchuplast lick of margarinelast pickle in the jarcupboard’s so emptythe cockroaches scut awaythe dead names rattle
129
Angel’s a good name
an angel’s watchin’ over mesince I was a babyelse how would I still be alive how can I still be alive how can I survive everything
the world owes you nothin’
guess my mother thought if she brought a little angel into this worldshe could just as well kick a little angel outta this worldthat’s what she wants to dogets it in her mindand there’s no stopping
howcouldshe if it isn’t for my father I woulda diedhe carries me to the hospital four mileshe walks along the railway tracksstumblin’ through the snow
funny thing in my dreamsI see hersee her clear as daylong brown hair pulled backeyes like dark raisinsshe’s wearin’ a hair clipdandelion on itshe’s smilin’ at me
130
in my dreams my mother smilessometimes she touches my forehead frownin’sometimes asks me puzzledhow’d you get this scar
it doesn’t matter mom
she’s my motherno matter what she does to meshe’s still my mother
Rae St. Clair Bridgman
homeless inToronto
AngelAngel hom
eless in Toronto Rae St. Clair Bridgm
an
Angel’s story begins —
no one has a scar like this unlessgo aheadyeah someone’s tried tokill me
girl you must be here for some reasonthat’s what I keep tellin’ myselfyou must be here on this blessed earthfor some reason
A testament to the search for reason in the face of loss and sorrow, the resiliency of the human spirit, an unerring sense of hope…
Angel tells her story of a treacherous childhood, abuse and livinghomeless on the streets of Toronto. First person narrative, fragmentsof memory and free verse heighten the immediacy of this gritty yetpoignant story for young adults, which treads a fine line betweenthe sane and the incomprehensible.
Angel draws inspiration from many years of ethnographic research on chronic homelessness in Toronto.
Rae St. Clair Bridgman has authored several books, including Jimmy Tattoo: Homeless on the Streets of Toronto (2016), Safe Haven: The Story of a Shelter for Homeless Women (University of Toronto Press, 2003) and StreetCities: Rehousing the Homeless (Broadview Press, 2006), co-authored Braving the Street: The Anthropology of Homelessness (Berghahn Books, 1999), and co-edited Feminist Fields: Ethnographic Insights (Broadview Press, 1999). PRINTED IN CANADA