Streetcars and I
had been way off each other’s
tracks since San Francisco, in the 80's

so last week on my holiday trip to Toronto
Julie, my hostess in town, chose to take one
in lieu of a bus, to go to the movies

after sliding my pedestrian progress
in duck boots, (alongside her youthful
and more familiar steps)
over streetcar tracks at intersections
on a cold day of a severe weather week there
I was glad to take one again

I gathered my $2.50 fare
and on Queen St. East
excitedly left the curbside and moved out
to meet the beast, married to its track
and climb inside

settled in seated contentment
I absorbed Julie’s tour guide banter
as we passed the shops, famous landmarks and corners
at the midday urban rush

but a female passenger soon boarded
wearing just a light denim jacket
and abruptly demanding attention

she paced, never sat
confronted the riders on both sides of the aisle
from the back, then the belly, then
way up to the front of the car
not stopping long but with a blatant shout
“please, has somebody got some money?”

When she passed by me, I saw she was relatively young
but had a no-fixed-address appearance
and attitude

“Please, I’m hungry,” she emphasized
at no-one in particular
then turned away, marching to the front
never seeming to gain a cent
or even wait for one
and after a short while, dismounted
of her own free choice

to answer my overt concern, Julie explained -
“street people work the streetcars in Toronto.
It’s a regular practice, here.
They enter free by the back doors
and the drivers don’t kick them off.”

I understood now, that on a ride of a few moments
the woman had borrowed some immediate warmth

the street people of the streetcars
have stayed with me ever since
roaming the aisles of my imagination
and their reality, night and day
instead of visiting shelters
for survival’s basic needs?

as the unemployed numbers grow
and even high-tech career people
are abruptly enlisted
the large cities the streets and transit systems
wear the open scars of the moveable
non-feasts - poverty, homelessness,
mental illness or bad fortune
something seeming so far off the track

my trip reached its destination point
and I stepped down, with heavier thoughts
than when I’d climbed on
forfeited the smooth dry chamber of travel
to step out onto the snow-laden streets
the slap of chilled wind in my face

03/15/2003