by Jacqui Deighton
they call you, the men with
bright canines and slick black hair.
"Hey, Red," on the streets of your city,
and you want to snap back at them "What?
What is it that you want?"
But instead you shelve your bravery,
dull your sharp tongue, and
retreat from concrete and car fumes to
a cottage of cakes and picnics
where, stupidly, you turn from the
kind country boy who rescued you from
those wolves that devoured you with their eyes,
to another wiry man in a grey suit
who reminds you of the city streets
you cut your teeth on.
Born and bred in the forests and surf of the island town of Victoria, British Columbia, Jacqui Deighton's biggest inspirations include world folklore, Allen Ginsberg, and her father's record collection. She has eschewed college in favour of travel and storytelling, and is too stubborn/optimistic for a back-up plan. Her favourite fruit is the pineapple.
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