From Allegheny, BC, published by Nightwood Editions in 2012.

She ran a boarding house on Doman Streetin South Vancouver. The boarders, all men,lived in the basement two to a room. My fatherhad moved up north and I’d come to the cityalone on a bus from Cranbrook.I found her ad in the classifieds and tooka cab straight from the station to her house.I had enough money to cover the first month’srent and moved in that afternoonwith my belongings stuffed in a bag.She was a large woman with a red faceand dyed hair. Her husband had beena master sergeant, but died a yearafter he retired. When she asked my ageI told her I was twenty-one, but shelaughed and said, Don’t lie to me honeyor you can find somewhere else to live.So I told her the truth, that my dadhad left me to go up north and I’dquit school to come to the cityto live on my own. The next dayshe took me to the welfare officeand argued with a case workerand a supervisor until theyagreed to pay my room and boardif I went back to school. Mount Bakerhad been a semester schooland there were two in the Lower Mainland.Mrs. Tobin took me to them both that day.Magee was for the city’s rich kidsand turned me away, but New West Secondarysaid I could start classes the next morning.That evening, my new roommate Kentook me to the Cobalt to watch strippersand to have some beers. Before weleft the house he showed me a baseballcard, perfectly preserved, from 1967.It featured a young Ken, in a Detroit Tigersuniform standing on the dugout stepswith a bat resting on his shoulder, a huge grinspread across his broad face. I played
two seasons until I broke my back
in a motorcycle accident. I couldn’t play
after that. I’ve got arthritis now.It hurts all the time. But fuck it
eh? I’m lucky to be alive, so ain’t no point
in bitching. Ken was on disabilityand three or four times a yeargot paid to carry cocaine in a backpackvia bus to Montreal or Toronto. Hehad a gambling problem and spenthis meagre winnings on prostitutes,but Mrs. Tobin liked him and healways paid his rent. At the bar Kenwalked me past the bouncerswho nodded their heads as wepassed. He called a waitress by nameand ordered a pitcher of draft. When sheleft he said, I got you in, so you can buy the drinks.
Okay? I nodded my head and paidthe waitress when she returned. Three hourslater I was throwing up in a urinal. A manshoved me as I swayed toward the sinksto wash my face. I slipped and fellagainst the filthy tiles sleek with pissand water. I got up and puked again into a sink.At the table Ken was gone and so wereour drinks. I sat down and watchedthe stripper. A power balladbegan to blare through the speakers.She was nude and her breastshung and gleamed with sweatas she bent over to pick up a folded quiltat the edge of the stage. She flung itoutwards and dropped it open on the floor.She walked a slow circle around it,grinding her hips. I was drawnto the perfect blankness of her face.I stood up and walked towardthe stage. I felt I was the only personthere besides her. The singer’s voicepeaked at the chorus of the song, but no wordswere being sung, there were only soundsthat moved across her like the stage lightsthat pulsed and crisscrossed against herbody. She laid her belly against the quilt,and began to grind her hips into the floor.Her hand flickered between her legslike a small trapped bird as shemocked playing with herself. On herleft ankle I saw a blue tattoo of a heartwith wings. I reached out to touch it.Her body whipped away from methe instant my fingers touched her skin.I saw a garter snake I had tappedlightly with a stick behind my uncle’s barn.It shivered then flashed into a holebeneath the faded boards of the wall.She was standing, her dark hairwild against her face. She waspointing at me. I looked at her eyesand she screamed Don’t touch me
you fucking freak! You don’t touch
the fucking dancers! Get the fuck

out of here! A deep warm voicespoke into my ear, it made methink of the murky water wewould dive into off the banksof the river. Okay, buddy, it’s time
to go. Come on. A hand grippedmy arm just above the elbowand guided me between the tablestoward the bouncer at the front door.He pushed it open and pushed methrough it onto the sidewalk.Go home pal, you’re covered

in puke, he said and pulled the doorshut. The air was a thin drizzleof rain against my face, headlightsslid like the blurred tails of cometsthrough the dark. I reachedinto my pockets but they were empty.I lowered my head and steppedoff the edge of the world.