long roads

people change 

rearrange into strangers 

it's alarming at first  

but then the danger 

of having room to grow  

becomes a joy we share. 

pull up a chair. 

let's catch up, friend. 

how are you doing? 

where have you been?

a midnight 12-top

Like a waitress who has lost her balance

I buckle at the knees from the weight

Of carrying too many plates.

There is a history in these shoulders.

Not one I’ve heard, but instinctively know

Like an old song in the throat

From my forgotten foremothers.

I am speaking with them now.

One says “Resist”

Another “Persevere!”

And another says “Learn to fight with your fists, you might need it this year!”

“And above all” they say in unison “above all, remain dear”

And I cannot let them down.

So I pick up the plates, and I balance them again;

There is such a history in these shoulders!

tall tale - a folk song

 I've been around the world, one thing I was told

The yarn will spin itself if the fabric's made of gold

If there's one wish I wished I wiiiiiiiiished...

...it's that this darn sweater wouldn't come unstitched!

(You may not know it to look at me, but I was a child of the wind)

Well I used to offer up my prayers to Poseidon

I sat in a creek near a statue right beside him

He whispered in my ear and what could it meeeeeeean...

...whoops my creek had turned into a stream!

(I once spent the whole day watching a cherry blossom die)



Now love. you've heard, is a very special gift

sometimes it lasts forever, sometimes it ends swift

one thing I know is you're bound to chooooooke...

with your lovers na-ye-ya-yum caught in your throat!

associations

Dedicated to Ben

I found a shattered glass mirror

And I squeezed the shards in my hand 

In hopes that a little blood on my reflection

Would help me piece it back together

Then I think about the peanuts in peanut butter

How, under a little pressure, they break down individually

Under the weight of the machine

How it smoothes them into a coherent mess

And these days I find myself 

Spread thin and broken

Like glass in peanut butter

Trying to become whole again

a conversation with a fisherman

"I paid for this canoe with pop can money" he started off. "Can you believe it?"

I replied "Oh absolutely, I do. My dad does the same kinda thing"

He smiled. "There's nothing like sitting back havin' a cigarette, or a toke, and fly fishing"

"Didja wanna burn one?" I asked, fiddling with the joint in my pocket. We were in the hotel parking lot, and no one was around to be bothered by it. After all, this was Edmonton before legalization where you were bound to catch a sour eye or two your way.

"Ah sure. Where you from?"

"Vancouver" I replied whilst I lit the joint (sorry for using the word 'whilst').

"Oh yeah, I lived there from '72-'94. I was there for the first Stanley Cup riots"

My eyes widened. "No way! I was there for the one a couple years back"

As I passed him the joint, he put one of his hands in his front jean pocket, took one big puff, and rocked back on his heels. I don't say it to be mean, but he was a real 'yee-haw' type. He passed the joint back and started "I remember I was shoe shining, making a killing that day. Y'see I've worked a lot as a shoe shiner. I would charge a nickel-a-shine meanwhile a whole tin of polish only cost you a dime. Y'see, I worked during that Tuesday night, and my, how quickly the whole riot started, and how quickly it was shut down"

"Yeah, I think the riots lasted quite a while, these last ones"

"I remember the cops had the place shut down by 6:30pm. They had everyone on Robson street, and just shut 'er down block by block. I didn't mind, found two $50 bills on the road, a stack of jeans
some looter had stowed away"

"What a haul!"

"That wasn't even the best part. I found a box stashed in the corner of a parking lot. A plain tin box. So I open it up and there are four silver dollars. King Richard on them, from before World War 2. Four of 'em. You know how much they sold for?"

I was eager to know. "How much?"

"$85"

"Holy shit"

"Yeah, not at all a bad day to be shining shoes"

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2020

mind-control

I used to believe in mind control
An invisible battle for my soul
A struggle, I wretch
I lose my breath
Who can see me struggle with this predicament?
I have to laugh, "It's all in my head"
My body jerks with a reaction
Is that really what I said?
Is that what I really think?
Can you see my thoughts?
Or do they just stink and you're left smelling
a burning brush fire?

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2020

and i'm sure

And I'm sure a hyena is still conscious of his laugh

a nervous tic he has to cut his anxiety in half.

In confusion he gasps and exasperates

"what kind of tyrant runs this place?"

To be left staring at an empty face.

And I'm sure an octopus struggles with its clutch

Grasping at the past because it's familiar to the touch.

They cannot let go, and they wonder "is this my destiny?"

another sucker for that ecstasy.

And I'm sure a black widow still cries about her fate

To choke the living love out of someone she embraced

To justify the pain, to save face, she cries out

"what cursed arms I must posses!"

while replacing her lace the way she knows best.

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2020

plastic military

We let them make the films 
about a plastic milit'ry
that invaded our childhood
causing glee and misery
They gave them 5 stars and awards
and if you disagree
they'll find another way
to sell you plastic milit'ry

the productions kept us up to date
on our gadgets and our tools
but when we burn, our 5 star films
will make us look like fools

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2019

growing pains

Dedicated to Travis

I remember, it was in the grocery store I asked to see my mom's glasses and put them on, for the first time; for the fun of it.

"Mom, MOM! I can see everything!"

"Well Son, looks like we need to get you glasses!"

And I remember, it was over a summer, that I would wake up in the night with excruciating leg pain. My mom took me to the Dr;

"Well, son, looks like you've got growing pains. It hurts; but it stops eventually"

And I remember the first time jumping off of the big rock at the Puntledge River. My dad was beside me, advising me of the opportunities;

"Well Son, ya gotta look out for the little windows along the rapids so you can see the bottom of where you're diving to"

And it's been a few decades since these events took place and, as with any troubles, with time and perspective I've been able to see with fleeting clarity;

I've been able to acknowledge the danger signs;

But the Dr. was dead wrong about the growing pains.

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2018

cacophony of the house

Dedicated to Anne

"Why the hell tell me what They Think they think?"
she thought she had thought

and the thought she thought they had thought

forms micro-beads along the crests;
forms crochet grit knots in her chest;
second-guessing what she knows best--

"The Thought they thought", she thought,
gets bound and caught in her throat;

she starts to cough,

and laugh,
and distress;

"Why are my thoughts such a frustrating mess?"

- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2018