First Monday of September

I turned down an extra shift,
               but still had to get up early
to catch the first 
                      Lakeshore West GO Train
running every hour on a holiday, 
        instead of the usual thirty-minute interval
which already makes Toronto 
                                    more distant than it is.

The same smell of coffee in the platform, 
now not as crowded, 
                                excitement on children’s faces
about to start their last day of summer.
Getting off at University Avenue 
                                      and Queen Street West, 
        it was apparent we needed 
more bodies for our contingent,
       but the anxiety was quickly dismissed 

with smiles and embraces. 
Casually dressed with hand painted banners, 
         and a small megaphone, 
         it will have to do. 
Crowds spilling into the street 
               are wearing matching t-shirts, 
following respective trucks 
                                     with drums and lead dancers. 
Today’s actually a chance 
for unions to show off, my friend said 
                to my confused expression. 
Burning effigies or flags on the street 
               would land you in jail here, 
another one joked.

We started walking along 
               mostly closed shops, careful not 
                                        to trip on streetcar tracks.
People who also got up early 
       are watching from the sidewalk in Queen, 
eager for the groups before us outdoing 
        each other on giving away treats 
and the occasional pamphlet. 
Clip broads with copies of the 
      petition against the killing of Kian 
were prepared, though the parade was basically a stroll, 
                  the pace was still too fast to explain 
the drug war’s link to labor export policy.
His mother working overseas
                           was basically used to justify his death.
I don’t think Filipinos are in the crowds 
this morning, the person holding the other 
end of the banner shared, 
                               they’re barely even in downtown.
Time and half is also hard to refuse, I added.

It was fairly warm as we crossed 
                                             Dufferin Street Bridge
to Exhibition, the march was after 
              all just the start of May Day.
The carnival rides along with the music
                                        protruding from the area.    
Echoes of the hosts welcoming 
               us as we approach the gates, 
“These folks are doing important work, 
organizing places employing 
                                         mostly immigrants!”
The moderate applause was buried by another boom 
                of fighter jets 
flying in pairs 
                                                                     above us.