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How I Became a Canadian
(from No Streets of Gold,, New Star, Vancouver, 1977) My father asked me to fill out the application for his old age application and to accompany it with a letter explaining that his original passport...
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A New Job
Now I’ve got a new job and a new boyfriend so I do what I’m told. I dress carefully, speak softly, and I am always polite. If “pleases” were pavement women workers would hardtop the world. August, 1978...
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Every Rich Man
Every rich man is sure somebody is else is getting more. No matter how much he has, someone else may be getting some and he wants that too. It’s either women or Indians or Asians or blacks or Jews or...
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The Unknown Child
(first printed in Riding Home, Talon Books, 1995) You have all heard praise of war - for God and Country we send forth killing men and killing machines and afterwards build monuments to battlefields,...
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To Be Unemployed So Early
(first printed in Life, Love and Unions, Lazara Press, 1987) To be unemployed so early in the morning seemed the most bizarre aspect. After all, there must be two million of us now; who was I to think...
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On Getting Fired
(first printed in Riding Home, Talon Books, 1995) I can’t remember their names any more; I can’t remember their names any more; they came and they went, never asking what for, and got eaten by the...
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To Reach the Unreachable Star
(first printed in Walking Slow, Lazara Press, 1985) God, she says, this is Linda. It’s Friday afternoon down here; I’m trying to type a perfect report. It doesn’t matter really except to me and maybe...
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Would You Mind Typing This For Me?
(first printed in Walking Slow, Lazara Press, 1985) Of course, I wouldn’t mind. I am a typist; I am paid to type. I will not, therefore, fix your bicycle, reupholster your couch, wash your windows,...
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Another Silly Typing Error
The nature of typing is such that there are none but silly errors to make: renowned only for pettiness and an appearance of stupidity. I don’t want to make silly little errors; I want to make big...
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Meditation on This Stage of Life
I am old now. I like it. I don’t mind the memory gaps: they diminish the importance of self and dim the rush of time. What I don’t like is losing words and phrases as if in preparation for something I...
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