Children Begging In Toronto

            

            As of Thursday, August 18^th, Amarillo still hadn’t come home. I haven’t been keeping count, but I think it’s been about eight days. I’m pretty sure he’s been away for up to two weeks, which is the length of time a female is usually in heat. He may be guarding a female somewhere.

            I rode to Plains Rd and Coxwell.
            On the way back I stopped to use the washroom at the Starbucks near Donlands and Danforth. There were about five cops sitting on the patio. I really don’t think they should be allowed to socialize with one another because it gives them a sense of siblinghood that causes them to defend one another at all times, including when one or more of them does something criminal.

            In front of the Eaton’s Centre was a child of about ten years old, sitting on the sidewalk with scattered coins in front of him or her. In all my years, even when I was living on the street, I never saw someone that young panhandling in Canada. The child was so thin it was hard to discern his or her gender. When I stopped at the light, the kid looked at me and silently moved its mouth as if speaking, and looked like a poster child for one of those starving children charities. The young beggar looked maybe Latin American, but could have also been Romany. I wondered if the waif was really alone or if at the end of the day he or she would have to turn over the money that had been made to a pimp for beggars.

            That night I went online and took myself off the waiting list for Canadian Fiction. I was only sixth in line and probably would have gotten in before September, but they wouldn’t process my grant application while I was on a waiting list. Canadian Poetry might turn out to be just as interesting anyway.