Vancouver Airport Bar

the wine's only six
seventy-five a plastic water glass
at Gate 22
the bartender is small breathless
she runs from the four-stool bar
to the Stuff You Desperately Need On The Plane store
adjacent
slops white swill charges
an arm and a leg for a bag of chips

the woman sitting opposite me
is in retail going back to Winnipeg
she's on her fourth beer
Regional Manager she says
she doesn't sound convinced

this wine's a bargain at twice the price
which I would happily pay right about now
if the cheap white would make me stop
thinking of you

Copyright � Kimmy Beach

Kimmy's second collection "Alarum Within" is forthcoming next spring from Turnstone Press. To the shock and horror of her friends, her first collection, "Nice Day for Murder: poems for James Cagney" (Turnstone) wasn't nominated for a single thing, but a lot of people bought it. Kimmy teaches English at a private school where she helps terrified adult upgraders figure out what the hell Hamlet is mumbling about.

PAT HORNER

highdiver

I am climbing the black steel
of the railway bridge barefoot
and almost naked the dark paint
is hot against my feet and hands
but I cannot stop smiling
from this place I cannot see you
and almost dare not look as
the height scares me I know that you're
there in the grass along the
bank barefoot and almost naked
the cool river water runs
between your toes and drops of sweat
bead on the soft skin behind
your ears as I reach the top I
stand and raise my arms almost
devoured by the scorching sky
as I lean out and with a
single shallow breath am swallowed
by the world of your strange and
moving toes

Copyright � Pat Horner

Pat lives in Calgary and attends university. He writes both short fiction and poetry. His work has been published in FreeFall Magazine.

JOYCE MIDDLESTEAD

calgary tower

glass morning
reflects silence over the city
high into winter
stabs of mountains on
the white west
there

we gaze
saying nothing but
a ricochet
you
concrete walls
me
concrete walls

we don�t touch

i want to
seize truth by its
savage neck and
shake it in your face

you hide so well
here
high
looking down

Copyright � Joyce Middlestead

Joyce, a Red Deer resident, has written as a casual hobby most of her life; however, due to recent provocation, she has threatened to become more serious! Her work has appeared in Western People and various free publications.

the lighter side of betrayal

my education is now complete �
in your secret stash of movies with such
conventional titles as
Sally Sucks Seattle, and Rocco Ravishes Prague
my stealthy cataloguing is brought to an
abrupt halt by a new release:
Bloopers and Boners

Bloopers and Boners? should I be
impressed that greasy men in
shyster suits can pun? I imagined
you people desperate and shamed
clammy handed and covert, not
laughing at out-takes

what constitutes an out-take,
anyway, in this medium? does the
silicon-filled bleached blonde
lose one of her press-on nails in
his hair? does he forget his lines � call her
honey instead of bitch?
maybe she, in the midst of her
pouting, lugubrious pleasure
suddenly shouts �
shit, I forgot my daughter�s dentist appointment �

I am as baffled as I was at the
original discovery what does it mean, that
you didn�t find it funny to begin with, that you have
graduated to snickering at the
lighter side of your obsession?
should I feel relieved that
you do still laugh sometimes?

Copyright � Leslie Greentree

Leslie works at Red Deer Public Library. She has had poetry appear in Grain and Prairie Journal, and published her first collection of poetry, "Guys Named Bill", in April 2002 through Frontenax House. She likes wine.

ERIC WILBERG

June

Ah, June, my first love, I only think of you now;
It�s been a long time.
I recall it all so well:
How we cuddled in my Model T coupe
On that fine day in spring
When the Pussy willows whipped the car as we motored down lover�s lane.
It was all going so well it seemed--until the rear wheel fell off,
And passed us on the left.
And then the car lurched and you bumped your head on the doorframe.
Later, after all was put back together
And we headed for home,
Your silence and miserable look
Was enough to tell,
We would not be traveling this lane again ever.
I only think of you now; it�s been a long time.

Copyright � Eric Wilberg

Eric is a retired civil servant living in Red Deer who writes for the pure joy of it. He favours short humorous fiction. When he is not out in his garage working on his antique cars, he is developing new material for the quarterly humour column he writes for the newly founded Red Deer Magazine. Eric is also the current President of the local group, Writer's Ink and encourages all writers to join this active group.