Ring the bell

Ring the bell,

sound the bell.

He lasted 17 minutes into that New Year.

Another crash at that intersection. 

The most recent—Christmas Eve.

A GSX-Suzuki heading west on Cornwall spinning in exaltation on its back wheel.

The rider never made it to this year.

Did they meet? 

Shocked, unsure of their place, 

caught between two timelines.

A cream 2011 Honda crumpled, a broken accordion.

VPD cars blocked the road on either side.

Stoically dull police officers, a polar vortex chilled their breath into a damp fog.

Hung flat in the early morning air.

No straggling revellers on foot. No party hats.

But cold dippers wrapped in oversized puffers and flip-flops waddled up from the water. 

Stammering. Shivering. Shocked alive. 

Steeling themselves to walk a few steps more for piping-hot drip coffee. 

Medium or dark roast?

Dark.

The coffee shop was verily named Viva.

Long live.

For the living, the year stretches into unfated timelines. 

For the dead?

Sound the bell,

Ring the bell.