I was walking around the campus
of McGill, which is beautiful,
hidden in hills of downtown Montreal,
whilst humming songs of the past
that got stuck in my head that morning,
just like every morning.
minding my own imagination,
wishing I spoke French,
when a bench called my presence,
and so I sat, drank my coffee,
reminded of the importance
of benches to a city, to a poet;
we all have favorite benches,
and I wondered if this one belonged
to specific lovers or lonesome singers.
I personally have a favorite bench
in New York City where I used to go write
before eating at Gray Dog
or performing at Cornelia Street.
I shared that bench with maybe two people
and now I have it tattooed on my right bicep.
next time you sit on a random bench,
consider that many people have sat there before you,
having experienced love and loss and indifference;
who has sipped wine or carved their name in this place?
maybe said goodbye or hello, might have taken a break
from a bad day or sat to sit in a good day.
all of this has happened or will happen.