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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 11 page 02



by Baker Chong

Your car is not silver I’m sorry to say,
it’s sadly hopelessly boringly grey.
It’s not argent or pearl or morning dew
or opal or oyster
or platinum or titanium
or whatever other delusionary hue
the marketing guys cooked up for you.
No, your car is totally pathetically grey,
a tedious mass-baked lump of clay
stuck bumper to bumper in an endless queue
on an endless asphalt slab
on an ashen day.

But hey!
My car is red!
My soul’s not dead like yours!
I got places to go, goals to attain,
A million brilliant concepts sizzling in my brain!
So what’s wrong up ahead, what’s the delay?
C’mon people, out of the way!