winding my way past the vomit and glass the Balmoral's orange lights winking sex inside sex inside Vancouver's chill has frost in the air crystals creeping into the pores of the sidewalk rubbies and whores jerky statues of memory wraith my path and a voice lunges out hey . . . hey! my eyes speed ahead I haven't heard a sound hey! . . . hey wait! the words stretching for my back trying to become smaller I don't have any change no smokes don't want a bag don't want to look hey! hey . . . . Mr. White! what? the street knows my name? a black overcoat catches up to me Mr. White I know this person it's Raymond Gerwin played basketball for me in grade 12 a sloppy, wild player with rare moments of penetration and hot hands he always wanted more time on the floor the handsomest guy in the school hair a black sheen eyes bright as edges fine smooth skin the sight of him could take your breath away but he spoke with a tic mouth yawning mechanically at the start of each sentence his hand is still warm tells me he's well pleased to see me after all these years but has to stop the smack got stabbed in the side a while back doesn't ask for money asks about my kids what I'm doing if I still coach ball where I live why I'm in Vancouver then we part it was good to see him again a good fellow blocks later I'm still tickled how I thought the voice was some rubbie or junkie and it was only Gerwin
Calvin White’s poetry has been in many Canadian journals and in U.S.A. and New Zealand. Turnstone Press of Winnipeg published his book We Run Faster with the Deer in 2001.