The rain had a head start on everyone, even the man with the American flag whose sickness, amnesia, was a metaphor for everything Mom taught him, cornerstone of his apple pie. At the campground near the river people sniffing camphor tins made everything possible, even myth. Imogene Coca made a mad appearance, married to a Ralph Cramden clone. Their kids hopped, skipped and jumped like Olympians, all chipper. Someone passed potato crisps around, all British. Hope was not lost, although insurance didn’t cover damage from water seepage, cancer and climate-change denial. Liquor helped with that, as did the oily halo round the matron’s spinning head. All of it is a Frisbee toss near a high-voltage transformer. The true fun will start when Ralph decides it will.


Sal Difalco lives in Toronto. His poems and stories have appeared in various journals.