Toronto: In Which I Approach Again My Spiritual Home

Toronto! Soon I'll see the CN Tow'r
From out the tiny window of a plane,
Get lost in Pearson, bus ride through rush hour,
Then rumble 'neath your streets. A subway train,
Then stroll up King Street. Fox & Fiddle, you
Had best be ready with some Guinness, then
I'll prowl again your secret paths, sneak through
Your empty spaces with my dearest friend.
Your parks in spring I've never seen and I,
Unique among your visitors, shall feel
I'm going to warm up there -- snows still fly
And frost and ice still crust the ground, for real
In old Cheyenne. But soon I'll see the world
In just one city. Look! My toes have curled!

Pondering the Toronto International Film Festival

I'm spoiled for choice, yet find as I check o'er
The offerings at TIFF this year that, while
I'm gasping lots and saying "ooh!" the store
Of what I must see there is small. I smile.
Once Winterbottom's next* would be the first
Upon my list, but I know it will be
An offering that I can catch, at worst
Within a few short months on DVD,
If not in theaters in old Cheyenne.
That's true of most; film fests are diff'rent now.
We've many options in this age; I can
But choose based on what will be coolest big,
Or what I want to see with Paul, you dig?
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*Sonneteer's note: I still may have to make for that film while there. The combination of Winterbottom, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon is damned nearly irresistible Kate-Bait.

Thoughts As I Circle George Bush International Airport

As William Gibson said of "soul delay,"

I feel a tether to my heart unspool

And trail behind me. It seems strange to say

I'm homesick for Toronto, but a fool

For it and those who live there I've become,

And no return in soon enough. I find

I may regain my equilibrium

If I can simply keep these things in mind:

Mere days and three more plane trips stand between

Me and reunion, and it's so that those

From whom I've parted (though their lack is keen)

Are truly not. So as the distance grows

And Houston's sunset now fills up my sky,

It's only happy tears that fill my eye.

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In Which I Start Seriously Anticipating A Live Gig

I must admit, I've truly got an itch
Today to see live music, but I've got
A month yet ere I go to see some Bhtch,
My buddy's band. Just recently I've caught
This urge in earnest; it's consuming me.
I've been a friend and fan so very long!
I'm like the Conchords' Mel, as you will see
If you're around, especially if one song
I wrote for them gets played: The Donut Ranch,
Or one I will not name here: too obscene
(But you can go and listen; just don't blanch
At the portmanteau cursing); here I'm clean,
As is my podcast. O, October 9
At Morseland! I've got chills all up my spine!

In Which I Gloat Over A Well-Earned Beer

Someone's idea of heaven surely is

Hot chicks with power tools. He'd love today,

When Kris and I were same. To ruin his

Imaginings a bit, a cop held sway

O'er these proceedings; that would be our Dad,

Armed with a hammer, prybar and a scowl

I'd never want turned my way. Yes we've had

Us quite a time. Now I've thrown in the towel

For one day. I must say it ain't half bad,

This deck we built for Krissy, and we've earned

The Bud Light we are gulping on it now,

Exhausted, bleeding slightly and sunburned.

Our next item of bus'ness is some chow,

We'll grill up on my sister's brand-new grill.

Some dead cow and grilled corn, oh yes we will!

In Which I Become A Clock-Watching Fool

Two days from now, almost right to this hour
I'll be crammed in a nasty airplane seat
Bound for points west. It's barely in my pow'r
To keep my cool. Vacation time is sweet,
E'en when, as I shall do, it's to do work:
My sister's house did not come with a deck,
A common but a not-so-charming quirk
Which needs redressed quite soon; she'll be a wreck
Until the job is done. Sherrods do not
Do well without a place to sit outdoors,
Sip beer and watch the birds from a cool spot
(And by sip beer - that's anything but Coors).
Two days and counting down! Meanwhile I sit
At work on my Friday, and just fidget.