This Summer in Rosedale

It was a nice day.


I took the Queen car to Yonge Street,
  ate a submarine sandwich, and, later,
  walked north.
Somehow I found myself in Rosedale.
I was drunk.


Crossing a street, I was almost struck
  by a black limousine which stopped
  with its nose two feet inside of the
  crosswalk.

‘Death to drivers,’ I screamed, pounding
  on the hood of the car.

The passenger of the car got out: it was
  Morley Callaghan.

‘You almost killed me, you fat old bastard.’
He said nothing. I was mad.
‘If you can punch that drunken suicide
  Hemingway, you can punch me,’ I slurred.
‘I’m an old man now,’ Callaghan replied.

I stepped on his foot.
‘I’m an old man and I’ve got a bad heart.’
I kneed him in the crotch.
‘I’m an old man now,’ he repeated.
I punched him in the face.


He fell back against the limousine.
My hand was broken.