Lucia Frangione

I think we all know the rains have come for earnest. The poor huddle low. All hunched back, no face. Spotted cardboard swells and sleeping bags are bundled up off the floor. Vancouver feels the weather in its joints: Main and Hastings, Union and Prior, Pender and Jackson. All these bender parts that have borne the most strain and worked the longest days. The streets that can say they’ve been trampled by horses. Spitter sputter on my windshield as I dodge jay walkers recklessly taking cover or taking their next hit. Their next hit might be me if they’re not…

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The butcher pulls out what he calls a “hard chicken”. Bristles of half feathers down its back all punky Mohawk. Gnarled yellow feet. And the longest neck I have ever seen this side of a giraffe. He was so pleased that someone actually wanted to purchase it. He grinned, “You must be from a farm, like me! We know what tastes the best! You just have to cook it slowly! And better still: $2.35 a pound, eh Sister?”   The butcher calls me sister. Well, I have to buy it now. I see why he doesn’t display it in the…

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While my little girl plays in the playground after school, Raven, a very charming playground dad, flashes me the whites of his Oreo cookie, cheekily. “Don’t worry” he smiles, “you can’t be allergic to these, there’s nothing real in them.”   He’s teasing me because I’ve started a strict elimination diet to figure out what the heck I’m allergic to.   http://www.precisionnutrition.com/elimination-diet   Never in my life have I been allergic to anything. I am as healthy as a horse. All of a sudden, one day, I’m chronically itchy all over my body. It’s lasted for three years. Even my…

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