At a bench on Jameson with a coffee in hand surrounded by strangers some masked in the warmth of the noon spring sun.

Liza is screaming in the distant bus shelter she calls home as an older masked woman feeds the pigeons and speaks to me about human cruelty and God’s will which reminds me I found a bird on Queen Street unable to fly so I put it in Ivan’s garden of evil in hopes it might have a better chance as Paul calls and tells me about that the formation of one world church is closer than I think…

Might be time for a second cup of coffee.

Dennis Mantin

Expecting Rain

I need to pee, I’m on the train. 

Smiling bright, expecting rain.

I’m at that age where I don’t care.

Except when i do.

Which is getting rare.

I find a corner.

Where i can go.

Someone screams.

At me…

I know.

All in my head.

I sit in pain.

The sun shines bright.

Expecting rain.

Dennis Mantin

Proud and Frail

Feeling something I might know.

It’s from far away and long ago.

Don’t want to stay and don’t want to go.

It’s proud and frail, like in limbo.

I’m by myself I’m welcome here.

The fog has lifted but not the fear.

I’m being vague, with little clear.

Proud and frail and just a little queer.

It’s 70 days of quarantine.

All alone and sight unseen.

Lost in trials of what might of been.

Frail and proud and maybe mean.

Dennis Mantin

Thursday in Quarantine

It’s Thursday now in Quarantine. I’m lost deep within my mind.

Thinking about something said… Without a face to find.

It’s something about someone that we both used to know.

Somewhere down somewhere deep. Deep down that rabbit hole.

It’s darker than the shadows and it’s colder than the night.

It’s open to suspicion. Interpretation is the blight.

I wake up in my coffee and come back here to now.

It’s a one way ticket. No refunds do they allow.

It’s testing and it’s grading. No posers taking stance.

It’s distant and it’s real. Letting go is our best chance.

Dennis Mantin