Stopping by the Canal on a Hot Afternoon
Whose house is that I do not know.
I pass it when I'm cycling, though;
They will not see me stopping here.
I'll take a piss then on I go.
My little bike must think it queer
To stop without a toilet near
Between my home and sandy beach
The hottest day so far this year.
If my bike could ring its bell
It might do so to raise some hell,
Cause me to dribble on my jeans
Right here in this idyllic dell.
The bushes are lovely and water's flowing
But with people coming I must get going.
They see my bike; their pace is slowing
They'd see my tracks if it were snowing.
by Allan Lake
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Originally from Saskatchewan, Allan Lake has lived in Vancouver, Cape Breton Island, Ibiza/Spain, Tasmania, and now calls Melbourne home (with regular retreats to Sicily). He has published two collections: Tasmanian Tiger Breaks Silence (1988) and Sand in the Sole (2014). Lake won Elwood(Aus) Poetry Prize 2016, Lost Tower Publications(UK) Poetry Comp 2017, and Melbourne Spoken Word Poetry Festival Competition 2018. He fears shopping malls and freeways.