E
A S T O F T H E B I G
Q
|
Through the scrim of the falling snow
,
I could make out the fuzzy outline of the big letter Q with its lightning-bolt tail on the Hydro-Québec building. That
’s
when I knew for sure I was in the east side of Montreal. The French-speaking east side
,
where my mother told me never to go
,
with its winding outdoor staircases
,
rich-tasting coffee
,
the smell of natural gas
—maybe
even a harpsichord or viola da gamba
—and
black-haired men who know how to make love with their bodies and souls.
From
“Vers l’Est du Gros Queue”
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The creation of this collection of short stories was made possible by
The Canada Council Explorations Program
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Zipped set of stories in MS Word