Cover image © Brian Michael Barbeito

Notes from the urban sprawl — vanishing green space, a walker in the wind, a forgotten card, an old key, and the people who still write by hand.

Prose and photographs by Brian Michael Barbeito

Where will the Deer Go, Brother?

As the houses overtake all the spaces, all the green spaces, even those that were supposedly protected. The developers get denied at first, appeal, and then what was lawfully disapproved somehow becomes approved and they proceed. What? Oh well. It’s ruining things because though housing is important, a mix of structures and trees and lands would benefit the populaces, the animals, the air and land, and the soul! Think instead of tracts of land housing evergreens and public gardens, of some dwellings yes, but with differing styles of architecture, and set into the land instead of looming over it. Verdancy. Water. More spirit and less show.

Two Wheeled Carts (Loner-ism, Dedication, and the Sad World)

A person old alone struggling pushes a cart, maybe not much family or ever a ride. It is a cold spring, and the wind is not kind. Some rain. The cars don’t adjust their speed or habits. A speed which is too fast and habits that are poor and selfish to begin with. But the walker manages, negotiates the infrastructure that is built for the modern world, read ‘car.’ They are dedicated to the task of walking, for they must be. Maybe much of my view is a projection or superimposition, and they are fine. I admit I don’t know for certain. But they don’t look fine and the wind is going to blow something out of that cart any second…

The Forgotten Credit Card

I go to pay. But something is wrong. I notice someone has left their credit card in the debit machine. It’s a deluxe version of a mainstream card, with a high spending limit. I know right away because some companies colour-coat and code their cards. There is nobody around. I, without touching the card, do the right thing, and spin the machine 180 degrees back to the cashier and tell her. ‘Look,’ and she thanks me. ‘I’m a good guy,’ I self-congratulate myself then, ‘but that would have been a great moment and find for the criminal….’

FACTO (keys and life)

A key. An old key. Silver. It has numbers on the other side. It was given to me to gain entry to a house I know. Because I am trustworthy and helpful. For a long time. But other keys, no. If you don’t trust me, then it is your loss and has to do with you. If you trust me, it’s your gain and has to do with an ‘us,’ and good things will occur. And keys are symbols and signs, much more than just functional things. Plus, they have their own beauty and poetry. ‘She has the key to my heart.’ ‘The key to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’

The Napkin Writers

The soul across the way maybe has something more enduring than I. They are always alone and work work work never looking up. I however, fidget, wonder, daydream, get distracted, stand up, sit down, go from task to task. Maybe that writer is more centred. There are, even in a digital age, many people that write by hand. This I notice right away, maybe the way a chef might notice a good plate of food or someone into fashion might notice a person’s purse or clothing. I don’t know. Words are soulful and magical. Think how symbols writ can translate into meaning and then consider the miracle that this meaning can affect emotion, convey valuable information, even heal. History. Geography. Social Science. Plays, poems, novels, epistolary. Long live any napkin writer especially the solitary and extra-dedicated ones!

About the author

Brian Michael Barbeito is a Canadian poet and photographer residing in the Southern Ontario area.