“Edmund Stone! I want to fight you,” emanated from a small band of earthly young men

sitting around a bonfire. Somewhere between James McGill’s summer home, parc La

Fontaine, and the Plains of Abraham. My challenger’s arms grew larger as I approached and

I realized it wasn’t my ol’ friend Jad, el flaco, avec qui un combat serait facile. A round pirate with one eye bulging out of his skull told me his name was Clement.

“why do you want to fight me? comment savais-tu mon nom?”

But he quickly lost interest in the fight upon discovering I’m a jew, betraying a history of intractable battles, all of us with ancestries untraceable, egos uninflatable. who are you who

am I we all suffer

and so we drank cheap wine from the grocery store

and France lost to Argentina in the final seconds

and it began to snow on the Plains

and it didn’t stop until the bloodied bodies resurfaced

every last one of them

hundreds of feet

and the children started to build red snowmen.

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Jonah Saks is a montreal-based student who loves math, music and poetry. Catch him playing guitar at your local cafe or writing bad poems (at your local cafe also).