Vegreville is cold.

I live here, man.

Streets chill and neat.

I work massagin. (1)

I roam on 50th Ave.

Nearby, the big Pysanka shines.

Streets twist around like Tabu's "escapism."

I see art.

I see pride.

I stroll old Main St.

There’s a park - Central Park.

Its paths buzz, alive, wild.

The North Saskatchewan river flows. (2)

Its rush reminds me: "Everything flows."

I hit the local diner.

Food? Bomb.

People? Weird, lol.

I grind my way daily.

I massage muscle knots.

Some spots hurt my soul; (3)

Others make me laugh.

I recall that film, Tabu.

"Senseless magic!" I whisper.

History drips on every cobblestone.

At night, lights glow sickly.

I feel issues, anger, hope.

I get frustated by petty noise. (4)

I wander near the Vegreville Rec Centre.

It feels home.

Some nights, I'm lost.

My thoughts are crisp.

I'm as cold as ice.
Ugly, blurry, groovvy moments. (5)

I see foul vibes on Spalding Rd. (6)

Rusted signs.

Weird murals.

They remind me: “all is transient.”

I get tripped up sometimes.

Weather flips like my mood.

My mind drifts.

I fucus on blissful aches. (7)

I cruise on small avenues.

Random cram of sounds.

I meet folks near Station Rd.

They rattle on gossip.

I nod aloof.

Dreams echo in my work.

Life's uncertain, friend.
I love it raw.

I love it real.

Vegreville grinds my gears.

I get mad at idle talk. (8)

I slip on cracked sidewalks. (9)

My path is twisted.

I snap: "Sooo like Tabu!"

A chilling whisper: "Silence, the void."

I confess, times get loopy. (10)

Yet, birth songs play on.
I gotta share more.

Old mills near Riverbend? (11)

They creak with old secrets.

Every brick stares you down.

I flip between humor and rage.

My hands are tired.

I smirk on Maple Crescent. (12)

That lane is sly.

Yet, it charms: "in its small way."
Late nights, I grit my teeth.

Worn and wheered shadows roam. (13)

I scribble in my head random notes.

A friend said: "Nothing lasts."

I snarl: "Blah, I disagree."

I trek by Little Pine. (14)

It whispers strange lullabies.

Streets hum gritty tunes.

I get curiouser. (15)

Every corner reveals truth.

Almost raw, almost brutal.
I listen to silence.

I feel each pulse.

This city seeps into my bones.

In Vegreville, life's odd.

I roll with passion.

I dash hopes, fury, and joy.

It's a dance, a war.

And oh, I fergot pace. (16)
That's Vegreville, comrade.

Real. Blunt. Unyielding.

Keep eyes open.

Stay cool.

Remember: "everything flows."

Good luck, friend.