[caterpillar in Confederation Park, Ottawa, 2003.]

[a short while ago, i had the extreme privilege of participating in a two-day intensive storytelling workshop with the one and only d'bi young. we were asked to take a memory from childhood, and write about it, and then we workshopped it over the next two days. it was an eye-opening experience, to say the least.

what follows is the working draft that i came out with at the end of the two days. it is meant to be oral, and will probably end up as a song of a sort. but until then, here it is in written form, because i want to share it with you now.] 

what caterpillars do is they climb on trees / that’s their shit, their cat-er-pil-lar-ness / and what kids do in my neighbourhood / is fill their pockets with wriggling live ones / for profit / ten cents a piece / cause turner every spring wants to clear out that tree / turner’s house town house / my own a few down / i go from lone ranger wallpaper / in my first room to myself, ravine tucked / to twenty feet up / cause i’m small and i can climb / the first thing i notice is their grip / cause climbing trees for caterpillars, man that’s their shit / their caterpillarness / to remove them, you gotta rip that / ten cents a piece / what kids will do for money / what kids do for approval / what will i do for candy? / what do we do because we’re told to do it?

the night before with closed door / the space between my first room to myself / and the lone ranger’s frontier is wallpaper thin / tucked in, it comes alive and i climb inside / to the space where spurs jangle spin metal clink / dusty ground / cowboy hat / the big brother i never had / he holds my hand past a rattler / “that rattler’s got its own plans, boy / that don’t include you unless you want them to / best to let each become what they seek.” / he says / dusty ground / old leather drawl / tumbleweed cowboy hat, wallpaper, fantasy, sleep.

that was last night / when today was tomorrow / when i didn’t realize how hard it would be / i mean, yeah, just put ‘em in yr pocket / and climb back down / i’m young but not stupid / the math is easy, ten cents a piece / you earn it, you earn it / unless i don’t do it… i don’t / you’re fired, karol and it won’t be the last time, i know / back at home with lone ranger wallpaper / and i’ve got no candy / but a memory of a caterpillar crawling / across my hand, see? / then back off, back onto its tree.