Thursday, December 5, 2013


                          Under the darkness of a vast December Day,
the entire population of Wait-A-Bit  have surfaced to togther
to sweep up the Main Lane... throw darts by the light of a bonfire ( strange how it becomes a more primitive game by torchlight)...
           throw scraps to the dogs, raise twinkling
 cups to the Milky Way, howl in the night
with the huskies and wolves... if fact, have a howling
contest... under the incipient light of a crescent 
moon, gently waxing...
           lights shine on the Mackenzie sweeping
towards the sea, and even a little dancing
on the lane-a-street...Matilda, Dimentieva,
and Nursie from the realms beneath...
and Artie, Hank, Double-Dexter, and me,
and Bertie and Dan and the Mad Poet from
Rat River to the East... and somebody
playing a blues guitar...
             This is the seventh anniversary
 of Incineration Day, our holiday
in state. But this is the first year there's
actually been any celebration. Up til
now the memory's been too painful -
the FLASH then second FLASH!
The instantaneous remodelling of downtown.
             The death of one town was the birth
of a newer, much smaller town. 
            Up here in the WINTER WONDERLAND OF INTERMINABLE DARKNESS... we must focus on the positive.
Every brick building within a radius of three hundred
miles was destroyed, yes, we admit it. We are not
repressing that memory!
             And what was the "positive"?  It was
the fact that those of us who lived still, those of us who
were left, we were presented with the gift of
one hundred thousand tons (100,000 tons) of
USABLE FILL... with twisted re-bar freely available...
and a working bulldozer ten miles north of town!
            The bulldozer had survived the BLAST.
            That was the day the bunker building began,
and the low tunnelling.  I.D. Day! INCINERATION DAY,
that was the birth of the new town of WAIT-A-BIT!
            None of us had any memories for a long time
after the blast. So none of us knew what the old town had
been called. We figured we'd remember in time, all we
had to do is WAIT-A-BIT. So that's what we called the town.
            Quite a few folks refused to tunnel. I'm told
they trekked East, past the Dark Hills.
             They didn't want WAIT-A-BIT...They left. They
went East. Life by the  River, they'd had enough.  They said they wanted NUN OF IT!

              So NUNAVUT -  that's where they stayed.

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