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

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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

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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’

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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