Period Piece: A Pensive Walk in Fall

Ecstasy is always

just around the corner.

I’m all-in Saturday

but confined to N.D.G.

so I decide to phone her.

I tell you I’m buying beer

for the hockey game

and head out into the gold

of an October afternoon,

copters whirling from the trees,

many-coloured leaves

drifting down the street.

I envision her in a fall outfit,

perhaps a scarf and beret,

and my insides go all soft.

It happens a lot these days.

Having a phone in the comfort

of my home, I do not know

where the pay phones are

in the neighbourhood.

I decide to check the dépanneur

a block over on Wilson,

and walk north in the sunshine.

Football weather, and I have

brief flashes of joy

but not as encompassing

as the liquid paradise

of early September.

I try to summon up

the elation of late nights

in her apartment,

but the tentacles of reality

keep me earthbound.

Surely a man with such a lover

must be happy on such a day,

I tell myself, but my system

is overloaded, happiness

tapped out by midnight trysts.

The dep has a pay phone,

but I cannot risk it.

I’d like a relaxed chat

but am doomed if discovered

making a call close to home.

I need a phone booth and debate

a trek to Côte St. Luc Road,

but my mood is crashing

into fear and paranoia.

I pick up a six-pack

and head back to the house,

frightened I’m not happy

on a splendid autumn day.

— Quinn McIlhone