some red things, one white thing

Posted: March 20, 2017 in joe fiorito
Tags: , , , ,

The stripe on the sleeve of a man with a mop
who is waiting on the corner for the light to be

not-red; stop. The flag in a storefront window;
stop. The cap on the kid in the stroller; stop.

The mailbox near the Chua Linh-son Temple;
stop. Last year’s rose on this year’s vine, wilted

by the fire station fence; stop. The cherry flash
atop the cop car, here now, hurrying; stop.

Where am I going? When do I go there?
What’s my name?



Joe Fiorito  is a Toronto journalist. He won the National Newspaper Award for columns in 1995. He is the author of six books, including a best-selling memoir, The Closer We Are To Dying. His novel, The Song Beneath The Ice, won the City of Toronto Book Award in 2003. His most recent book, Rust Is A Form of Fire, is a poetic meditation on the streets of the city.



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