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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Saturday, May 17, 2014. Kay was going after Terra Cotta jaggedly, aiming west on diagonally-tilted streets that didn't appreciate her orientation. Through industrial and residential Pointe-Claire she wound her red bicycle, following five-thirty's west-setting sun. She met Avro, des Canots, Métis the street, Delmar, and Braebrook which seemed to go on for a while, despite an Arrowhead lodged in its throat.
The sun blinded her judgment and she pursued it instead, following it north up Maywood. Going south on Maywood would've led her to a genuine park entrance, but instead she ran into Chaucer. She paused, pleased. The name was familiar, but not as a street, and a remixed verse rang in her ears:
When April with its showers sweet
brings May flowers,
it's the cruelest month.
At the end of Chaucer was Saint-Jean, the kind of road she called a highway and her mother didn't. For people who knew things, highways were the numbered roads. She felt she was far, far, to the north of Terra Cotta. There was a new Target in front of her. She followed its red and white logo onto the cross street, Hymus, which she thought might lead her to Centennial_Park.
It didn't. That was Hyman. Something a bit more sexual, both male and female if you parsed it - or so she thought as she perused, immature, the grassy ground on the bike path beyond the store for empty cans she could return to a different store for five cents each. The plastic bag she carried stuck to her sweaty right hand more than it stuck to the bike handle. Places need change. She moved the bag to the left. It held one Coke and one Budweiser (the King of Beers) already: red and white product placement, like the Canadian flag.
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