1
Somewhere in the Albertan Rockies,
standing along grey crags &
cliffs, I am holding my Baba’s hand
tight. I tell him I am afraid of heights &
squeeze my hand if I try to look down.
2
Somewhere in the slow killing of childhood,
standing in the shower, I am
watching pink clouds of man-spend swirl
down the drain. I cannot stop
myself from looking down.