Love and Money

If you walk down the street in downtown Calgary you can almost smell the money. This is boom town; black suits and white cowboy hats, big trucks and long limosines, cell phones and starbucks, laptops and leather shoes. A young proffesional type walking swiftly, talking on his blackberry, stepping over a bum who looks up at him as he passes without a glance or a second thought, dirty rough hands half raise a partly crumbled Tim Horton's cup.

At the bus stop, no suits. Courderoy dreadlocks eyes glance at me from behind oversized headphones. A young woman sits in the bus shelter, one hand on a baby carriage, watching a couple across the street walking close, hand in hand. 

On the bus, crowded, elderly lady sits with bag on seat next to her. Middle aged man with leather jacket standing next to me, glancing furtively at her. She notice's, but doesn't let it show, doesn't move or look or smile or say hello. Middle aged man with leather jacket next to me gets off the bus. The elderly lady looks at my shoes, she doesn't move.

So much opportunity, so much fear. So much for these lines that glance and skew...