Poem: Sunglasses



Written June 1, 2017

Before the tunnel
there is the sign to
take off your sunglasses.

You put them on the dashboard.

If you are driving
into the tunnel with sunglasses
no matter how expensive they are
it will be too dark to see
where you are going.

Only if it was sunny
would you have them on to begin with
and this is Vancouver.

Orange blocks of light,
squares down the inside of the tunnel
light the way of the cars that are
speeding through with fast tires and engines
buzzing like bees in a tin can.

This is the worst place for accidents
In, after, before the tunnel.
Not just the danger – it clogs the whole works up.
People trying to get to jobs in the city.

I examine from the passenger side
the cement walls, see the metal doors
with latches that someone must
walk through at some time or another.

Today it is sunny and there are no accidents.
Once you get to the end of the tunnel
you reach to the dashboard and
put your sunglasses on again.

I croon my neck back as much
as I can wearing a seatbelt,
trying to catch a glimpse of
the river we went under.


by Wendy Stewart

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