"In Memory of My Heavy Metal Years" by Jeff Derksen

In Memory of My Heavy Metal Years
by Jeff Derksen

There goes the
aluminum, the antimony, the arsenic
the barium, the cadmium, 
the cesium, the gadolinium
the lead
the mercury
the nickel, the thalium, and 
the tin. 

There goes that job spraying lawns
with chemicals, driving the Merc
three-quarter ton 
with a tank on the back
and no brakes
through West Vancouver, bouncing
the wheels against the curb
to stop
and on the steep
majesterial streets
that afford such views

that they could hire
two talentless dickbrains
to weed and feed
front and back
and back again 
in two weeks. 

That was a heavy metal job
that probably killed
a lot of salmon too. 

There goes the shotgun
pellets from the pheasants
we shot out in Abbotsford and Langley
plucked and hung
in the concrete basement
in New Westminster
fresh
with the stink of pheasant guts.

Oily, delicious pheasants
roasted always
with a little buckshot
after a day off. 

There goes those summers painting
houses with my brother
wire-brushing off
the old paint, breathing
it in on the wooden ladders
white guys working
on a tan
and saving up for the Peugot
ten speed. There goes

the seventies
out from my body.
Led Zep Humble Pie Burning Spear, and
Marley too, adidas, big E Levis 
from Lee's Men's Wear on Sixth Street
there goes that brown house
paint, broken down 
and pissed out. 

There goes those years
beachcombing along the Fraser
from New West to Lulu Island
pulling out cedar blocks
that had floated free
from the shake factory booms. 

Pulling the blocks out
of that industrial muck

grey green and foamy 
down near Scott Paper, the mill
that Larry worked in until
it moved
production south. 

Then stacking and drying the blocks
to split them into shakes
with a birchwood
hammer and an adze. There goes

that industrial mix
from the Fraser 
from the riverbank
from the bars by the river.

There goes sucking on
a hose to get some gas into that
golden sixty-six Valiant convertible
with the leaky roof and
the 273 and putting it
right into the carb to sputter
the piece of shit to life
Again. Still, pretty great 

to have a convertible with a radio
(turn the radio on 
roadrunner roadrunner!)
and a five-gallon gas can
and a piece of garden hose
and a mouthful of
Regular, a mouthful of
Regular Leaded
from the Chevron
in the strip mall across Tenth Ave.

There goes working
on a printing press
under the sidewalk
of the storefront at Cambie and Hastings
that was later the Caribbean place
and is now
going to be gentrified.
There goes that time. 

There goes all the shitty renos
on Broadway, on Hastings, on Commercial Drive,
there goes the dust
from that wall Mike took
down with a chain saw
when Talonbooks was above the foundry
and there goes the foundry dust
and the sweep of chemicals
that would take your head off
like six beers later at the Waldorf. 

There goes the mystery
unmarked jars of cleaners and solvents and grease
that Larry nicked from the mill
and we used on the cars and bikes
and on our hands. 

There goes that job at the self-serve
Shell with a car wash across from the college
when it was in temporary trailers
just to show that education
for the masses
was taken seriously.

And there goes, hopefully, the dust
and everything from that week 
in September
when what was stored in the three
buildings of the World
Trade Centre was pulverized
and burnt Into the air
and Nancy and I stayed in the apartment
with t-shirts tied 
over our mouth and nose

and didn't go out until
we went to Milano's
where the Fireman drank for free
with the IRA guys
leaning at the bar. There goes
that time. 

There goes the
Aluminum, the antimony, the arsenic
the barium, the cadmium, 
the cesium, the gadolinium
the lead
the mercury
the nickel, the thalium, and 
the tin. Broken down
pissed out. 

There goes those jobs, those times
there goes those relations
of inside and outside, of work
and nerves and fat and soft tissue
and synapses. 
There goes that set of relations
inside and outside. There goes that body
that use and surplus





Read, listen, share, create, and be on watch.