Bathurst Street and Bloor (An Ode to Honest Ed’s)

(This #verseday poem is for my Toronto peeps. They will understand.)

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Photo by Don Toye. Click to see the original.

I am Honest Ed
The captain said
And turned toward the shore
He slowed a clip
And moored his ship
At Bathurst Street and Bloor

As ship, a shop
A circus top
With flashing lights, a store
In wonderment
The patrons went
To Bathurst Street and Bloor

A pauper’s price
For tins of spice
A dime will get you four!
At half the cost
You still get lost
Exhausted, floor to floor
In rows and rows
Of bags and bows
At Bathurst Street and Bloor

Our Ed’s no goat
But he’ll eat his coat
Before he’ll charge you more
For an Elvis bust
A pizza crust
A custom fishing lure
A cup that says
‘Toronto!’
From Taiwan or Singapore
For pleated skirts
Or neon shirts
From nineteen eighty four
For anything
That Ed can bring
To Bathurst Street and Bloor

So travel down
Koreatown
And through the spinning door
It matters
Not a spatter
If you’re rich or filthy poor
For he landed
Empty handed
Our most savvy raconteur
And built a shop
Which begs a stop
At Bathurst Street and Bloor

by Heather Emme

(Fun side note. I met Ed once. I was working at the Princess of Wales as a teenager. During the show run, I was at a booth, waiting to sell product when the intermission hit. Technically we were supposed to sit and do nothing, but my boredom was not easily assuaged. I was doing a crossword. I missed the call that went out over the walkies that “The eagle had landed.” That was code for “Ed’s in the building.” I was caught up in my crossword when an older gentleman leaned over, looked at my puzzle and offered an answer. It was Ed. He smiled and went in to the show. His guess was wrong, but he was still friendly. 😉 That’s my Ed moment. Feel free to tell me about yours below.)

To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

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