The Lido
who used to sell expired food
in their perennial Broadway storefront open only on Saturdays
stockpiles of impregnable canned peas
alluring cheese with only a little mold.
I can see them behind the counter, diminutive and wizened
even on those longdead afternoons
of my thrifty student desperation
mildly benevolent behind thick accents
while I picked through anachronistic cheddar
grateful for groceries even I could afford.
Wisdom of thrift that now seems a dead religion
Germanic and obscure as folktale marvels.
When he died she continued alone
rummaging in rooms above the shop
that was closed now even on Saturdays but always looked
ready to open again, the shelves in perfect order
fully stocked for the apocalypse
handlettered list of specials still taped to the window.
Did they live on
far beyond their own expiry dates
or was it the rest of us who strayed
mutated too quickly
a blur on the edge of their unhurried sojourn.
The cleanup crew sent in after the end
would find an old suitcase with wartime German passports
mountains of sardine cans no longer safe from the rats
and $400,000 in rainy day funds
put by under a carpet, conserved in a sack
bills so old they look like playmoney
to the 1 800 got junk dot com haulers
who emerge blinking as from a cathedral
to haul ten loads of refuse to the dump
nonsectarian shrine of the lightspeed city.
First published in the Vancouver 125 special issue of subTerrain.
As if it wasn’t enough to have two poems included in the exquisite subTerrain special issue for Vancouver’s 125th anniversary, all of us with poems included were invited to read at a poetry marathon launching the issue. Up to this point I’d spent most of my poetry time scratching down ideas on scraps of paper in my bedroom, so it was a rare chance to mix and mingle with other poets. I was a bit nervous heading in, but subTerrain manager and all around make-it-happener Janel Johnson put me at ease with her warm welcome and soon I was sitting at a pub table hearing some amazing poems and getting great poet mentorship from Daniela Elza.
The edition was also a spark to reconnect with two old friends who also had poems included, Evelyn Lau and Christine Lowther. I met them both when we were all teenagers through the communal house where Chris and I lived and where Evelyn arrived the day she ran away from home. Evelyn I’d kept in sporadic contact with but Chris I hadn’t heard from or seen in more years than I could remember.
Banner photo by Shannon is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Photo description:
Interior of The Lido store, showing food on shelves and rats. Taken on March 25, 2006.
Photo of exterior of The Lido by Mike W licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.