Do you reside or live?

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French Canadian woman looks down on symbol of English oppression – the Bank of Montréal.

Reside as a word to describe where you live sounds forensic to me, like something you’d read in a police report. “The victim, a 59 year old female with two gold fillings, resides at 123 Dull Street, in Ottawa East. It rings of resignation and victim-hood.

Montréalers do not reside, baby, they live, Live, LIVE! Don’t bore me with that old joie de vivre bullshit. Montréalers are way past that borrowed colonial French cliché. They’re on a whole different planet of life. Continue reading

Dilly beans

I thought someone had bled into my salad, and was on the verge of sending it back when I noticed the drops were congealed into tears. Glossy among the shredded California greens (so 1990’s) and underneath the teepee of skewered and charred pink shrimp and salmon coloured salmon, they were flames licking my protein. Continue reading

Dopey me

I squint
reject sense
decide – yes

Fletcherized fire
on the tip of my tongue
milk chocolate bright
like sunlight sprayed
on a silver car

I dive in saliva pools
I am a hot high
beam at midnight
overdriving I can’t
stop

Later
guilt creeps
swells like a
compost bag
bulging with coffee
grounds and sheared
corn cobs and ragged
lettuce bottoms
it seeps

Ripped apart
dopamine gone
I vow now
to diet.

(Inspired by the Dictionary.com word of the day “Fletcherize”.)