Neighbours/So Lucky



Claude, my neighbour with the heavy cross around his neck, he never talks to me.

Next door, he shouts when he talks, but his accent is so thick that eavesdropping brings a series of sounds, unintelligible save for some emotion.

Today, as I was checking my mail, he accosts – friendly but insistent:

“Have you heard about Las Vegas…Over 50 dead…Internet, or cable…You can hear the machine guns…The first time…Even babies maybe…White guy…Nobody knows why, not even his brother…”

With the heavy cross around his neck, and the lightest smile across his face, he speaks at me,

with excitement, with confidence, sharing love, sharing humanity.

Claude is my neighbour.

So Lucky


We’ve elected to oppress ourselves, to increase our efficiency, and to take all our time away.


Three times now this week I’ve been called "so lucky," for not having a smart phone, or wi-fi at home, or social media. Without sarcasm, 

hyperactive and exasperated


sullen and resigned, 

“Oh? You don’t? You’re so lucky…” 


If I’m so lucky, then it’s pretty easy to be so lucky. And yet…


Oct 2, 2017 – Montreal, QC