6. City Camping

The din of the traffic keeps humming and heaving

as I pitch my tent and try urban camping
horns blare loudly stomped on by sirens
cars whiz by driven by titans
incessant, demanding, aggressive, unbending
where does it start, when is it ending

I close my eyes and cup my ears

but the brakes keep screeching, the tires keep skidding

this is my night
there’ll be no real sleeping

this is my plight
I’ve got to stop thinking

I lie in my tent but flee in my mind

dying to escape —

the cold air above me, the gravel below me.

The only smart choice

is to run

run away

far away

to the other end of the bridge

to Stanley Park

where sounds are harmonious

tall cedars are glorious.

And, so I go hurriedly to fleeting dreams

where at last

eyelids close, breathing slows

In my bough of soft moss

my canopy of frost

All tucked in

nothing left to disturb
nothing left at all

but exquisite sleep.

My boyfriend and I were visiting West Vancouver one spring. Rather than spend money on a hotel, we decided to be clever, and bring a tent along. We used the internet to find a campground. When our GPS led us to the campsite, we discovered it was located directly under the north end of the Lion’s Gate Bridge, right beside a major mall. We realized the traffic would be non-stop but decided to stick it out, as it was ‘just one night.’ Lying in the tent, listening to endless noise made me crave what lay on the other side of the bridge — the ever peaceful, ever pristine Stanley Park.