the gps steering us in and
out of Montreal a few
times
the radio sputtering
the ample-breasted biker girl selling
hotdogs at the roadstop
all mercilessly out of range no less the
prospect of the Cabos, Rosalita, any-thing
remotely exotic
and it's hello to a few hundred miles of
moose barricade until we feed on a
a dozen or so re-boiled poutines
$2 to see my mother
$5 to see my aunt $10 to visit
Parlee Beach and $45 for the bridge
back from P.E.I with the possibility
of deep-frying toll fare at some
ocean-front clam shack
so my thanks go out
to Anne's country kitchen and the
town of Crap-o
at $5 a plate
it'll be well worth enduring the smell
of a dairy cow's ass