Mangoes In Toronto Poem by Raymond Farrell

I needed a number 5 Rigger Brush
With my favorite art supply store
Being on Dundas Street near old Chinatown
What better time
Than a warm sunny June afternoon
To head downtown
The Metro ride takes time
Not an inordinate amount
But long enough to require
Some reading material to fill it
Without just watching the wayfarers
I decided to reread Wallace Stevens'essay
The Noble Rider and the Sound of Words
And was halfway through it
When I arrived at my destination
Every time I walk down Dundas Street
After being back living in Toronto
Since the late 1970s
It always strikes me
How much the city has aged
In the 70s these streets
Seemed vibrant and new
Now, the city is visibly in decline
Homeless people in increasing numbers
Are a sad reminder
That progress is not all inclusive
I bought my brush
And headed for Kensington Market
While eyeing the produce
I was attracted to a sign
"Mangoes 3 for $5"
Mangoes are the King of the Fruits
During my extended times in the tropics
Mango trees lined the pathways in places
Where fresh ripe fruit
Was within arm's reach
The nectar of the gods
Could not be sweeter
Reaching out I touched the mangoes
They were hard and green
If they were green now
The Lord only knows, how green they were
When they were picked
I decided to take a pass
Because it has been my experience
Fruits picked long before being ripe
Lack their true taste and flavor
Once you have tasted
Fresh ripe mangoes
You will never pay
To eat any others
And so it is
In this quintessential Canadian city
Of high prices
And unfulfilled expectations.