A ferry sliced through syrupy ripples,
Back in '73.
In search of the promise of an endless summer,
Suntanned faces, hair around our cheeks,
Blue skies that went on forever -
Well, in the Polaroids we kept at least.
They were busy with construction of what would be (for a short time anyway),
The tallest building in the world,
Canada's National Tower,
553.3 metres tall on its completion in 1975,
Keeping the dream of the Montreal Olympics and Canadians alive.
But we kept our eyes on the road,
Through forests and past lakes that looked like spilled ink.
In a Pontiac that was a couple of years old:
Mom and dad in the front,
Me and my brother in the back, playing
Eye Spy until the arguing grew and grew so that my mother could barely think...
It wasn't the hottest summer on record that year,
But still the ground became cracked with
Lightning bolt-shaped lines as even the weeds gave up looking for moisture.
There were long days stretching into evenings around the barbecue
After the sun scorched swimming costume silhouettes onto reddened bodies, in this new world pasture.
I spent some time in hospitals there in Toronto, my giant Donald Duck stuffed toy filling up the cot,
But I can't remember much of that at all, no, and that's maybe for the best.
A day trip down to Niagara Falls was a blast, the wide expanse of water plunging over and over into another country, just like us.
I hurled my toy train into the mists there and it's probably still sitting on a damp ledge, being spotted by honeymooning couples,
Year after year: hey what's that down there - looks like a train - they'd laugh and return to their heart-shaped bed,
To make a railroad rhythm of their own.
Yeah, we didn't stay forever the way it had been planned, but flew out in just a couple of seasons,
Seasons spent in Toronto '73.
Seasons spent, came and went,
In Toronto '73.
Posts
