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Canadian tire…

October 26, 2011

On the outskirts of a tiny little town was a neglected garden…

In the garden stood an old house,

and in that house lived Pippi Longstocking…

She was nine years old,

and she lived there all alone…

She had no mother or father,

which was actually quite nice,

because it meant that no one could tell her that she had to go to bed,

just when she was having the most fun…

And no one could make her take cod liver oil when she would rather eat candy…

— in Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren


I rubbed up,

a horse,

who’d made it,

big time,

on the track,

and I was told,

among other things,

that he knew it…

But when I looked,

into his eyes,

I got,

a completely different,


and I felt it,

in my aching jaw…

I’m not inclined,

toward headaches,

but yesterday,

starting late afternoon,

I had one,

coming on,


And although,

I somehow,


the tension,

I knew,

I was distracted,

from the task,

at hand,

which at the time,

was being schnitzeled,

by Edmonton…

One of the things,

I wonder,

about the repeating pattern,

of a slow start,

every October,

is if players,

on the V-Canucks,

and their families,

have the freedom,

to opt out,

of the flu shot…

Just because,

the team doctor,

is providing,

the innoculation,

does not make,

Roger’s Arena,

a safe injection site…

A woman,

recently told me,

how she’s been,


about protecting herself,

with this so-called,

health care,

while her twin daughters,

refuse to present,

their biceps,

for the needle…

And in the next breath,

when she mentioned,


with her lymphatic system,

I had a thought,

I kept to myself,

about how her children,

might know something,

that we’ll never have,

the data,

to prove,

if we continue,

to allow,

big business,

to stick it,

to the man…

When racehorses,

no longer,

earn enough,

to pay their trainers,

they’re more often,

than not,


for auction,

and the possibility,

of the meat truck…

Unless of course,


with a sweetness detector,

sees their potential,

and buys them,


for re-purposing…

I’ve often heard it said,

about a horse,

I’m the one who feeds him,

so he’s damn well,

going to do,

what I want,

when I want…

If you’ve sold,

your body

to the NHL,

for six figures,

and what’s more,

failing to refuse,

what you know,

isn’t working,

for you,

puts a real screw,

to being held,

in the cross ties…

I can hear my train coming...

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