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author's note:
after some feedback and a rewrite, here's unwin avenue again. hoping this smooths out some of the rough patches. not sure where i stand on the capitalization issue, so i haven't changed it-- yet. new feedback is welcome. feel free to dig up the old version if you'd like to see what's changed.
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at the bottom of toronto, leslie street intersects unwin avenue, just before it becomes leslie spit. my lungs are ragged from the ride, but i manage a dark laugh. unwin. i win, and then i unwin. i lose.
i don’t win; i don’t win you.
that cat lost, too. that one, see? just muddy tufts of hair now, colorless, growing out of the road like sad november grass. i ride over it before i know what it is.
the road unrolls: so straight i could close my eyes for awhile, listen to the water sloshing the sides of the land, the crank of the chain, my breathing. i’m losing my breath in this mad ride.
the sun is going, going so fast. i’ll race you, sun, you fucker. i’ll race you to the end of this land, the end of this city. i’ll win.
the pavement roughens into dusty patches of pebbles. wild waving heads of goldenrod, geese, solitude. swarms of tiny bugs—one in each of my eyes, one down my throat. i can’t cough it up. bug juice and tears feel like hairspray, poorly aimed. one hand digs at my sticky eyes, the other steers around potholes.
you’re raging through me like an illness, like a bullet, like a storm.
i throw my bike down in the weeds, myself down in the rocky debris at the shore. if i could ride further i would. there’s burrs all over my sweater; it’s too thin against the lakebreeze. the trees here are backlit, aflame, cherry-orange. one sliver of day left. i’m ripping open.
how could there be flowers here that i’ve never seen before?
how could you have meant it when you said no?
------
ark
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