Monday, August 21, 2006

Sitting at the Tsawwassen ferry terminal. There's a couple hours wait until our sailing. I expect we'll be home at a late hour again (perhaps 1:30 or 2). I will do my best to sleep on the boat and in the car.

I close my eyes and listen
to the hum of the shop refrigerators
to the swishing of shop gates closing
to bottles in bags breaking against each other
to doors shutting and keys jingling
to metal trays on metal compartments
and the murmur of conversations in the coffee shop

Snatches of conversations:

"And there's something really neat about making money for the first time."
"So at least we got on a sailing."
"We should so get that ferry."
"Good, how are you?"
"So tired."
"Look at this little thing! It's all, yeah!"
"What are you doing? Oh cool."
"Where'd you put my hat?"
"Uh, they said left. Did you see dad?"
"Pardon me? Well, you're going to have to."
"Where's Olivia?"
"I don't know what legislation's changed."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh. Mum made it? Ooh."
"Did you just say that?"
"We should...we should try something tomorrow."
"Everything's closed."
"Maybe, um, bad luck?"
"I'd just planned on dropping him off."
"They have candy apples."
"It's probably Canadian."
"I think so."
"I like what they've done to this place."
"What time is it? What's down there?"


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