The Next Poem, The Day After

come to Montreal with me.
it is cold.
but I will keep you warm.

For many of us, 
when we talk about bars 
we’re talking about our fathers
or mothers. 

That’s just a fact. 
Beneath the polished worktop 
of our memories, 
beneath the well-oiled stories 
and the grain of the wood, 
you’ll find the face of a man or a woman
you scarcely knew, 
and you can picture him or her 
there in the bars where he or she 
sought his or her freedom.