Originally published in Prairie Fire Vol. 36, No. 1.

1

my blood has blessed these sidewalks

longer than the waters of Misipawistik have washed my village

and this story began from that first view of city lights

it was a buick

circa 1958

tripping to the big city

south on highway six

gravel road barely wider than two car widths

my dad traveled at night

in a car full of sleeping children

scattered on the back seat

but not me

i was awake full of excitement

watching my father driving never over 60

the car sliding side to side on loose stones

slowing at passing trucks and cars

dust out field of vision obscured

my dad gently blowing against the windshield

trying to clear his line of sight

exhaling softly at reaching the asphalt covered road

just past gyp

moosehorn appeared from out of the dark

then ashern for a quick coffee and pee break

didn’t flush

then eriksdale to our left slowing down to glance at strange faces

watching our strange faces

lundar was just a blur

never could pronounce grosse isle

but even from there i could see the glow in the sky

city lights

barely able to contain my excitement

eyes wide at the lights and traffic

my dad’s hands gripping the steering wheel

white knuckled driving block after block of quiet streets

my head was a swivel

unable to see or grasp it all

tumbling out of the car at the Mac

then warned not to wander off

finally a restless sleep

i had landed on the neon moon

i was twelve