On the south side of Alberta, where sun-skinned canola
nods sleepily to the August dust, death walks the streets,
briefcase in hand.

Thoughtless steps tick off distances,
and lead to the quiet end of town.

Before me, in glorious disrepair,
I find a defunct grocery store,
like some slope-backed southern
manse: peeled and bleached
in the remorseless revolution
of sun and snow, its buckling
walls gouged and scoured
to manila edged sepia by
the spit-grit, iron-twisting,
Alberta wind.

The store window frames a hollow-eyed oldster,
faded green apron and tan bow tie hanging from him
thready and neat.

He stands, unmoving, staring across the stillness
of a vacant street. His face, blurred by the sand-
etched glass, is webbed and broken, like the frost
shattered sidewalk at his feet.

A reflected spectre in the pitted pane,
the decrepit stump of town's last elevator
claws at an empty sky. Starred concrete
and rusted re-bar lie waffled next to the cold
iron road, where the train used to go.

Laughter and strength have passed
from this place, taken by time and
chain gangs of clean cut young men:
pirates in suits with swords for ties.
Their pyritic grins and soft hands feign-
ing firmness with artifice long rehearsed.

11/19/2009

Author's Note: This summer a contest was held for Alberta poets, the theme was "Albertans at work". The winners were published in a government sponsored booklet called, Alberta Works. George's Grocery won a spot in this booklet.

Posted on 11/20/2009
Copyright © 2024 D. James McKee