BY DAN DAVIDSON
The highway passes it by now,
elevated, two metres above
where the entrance used to be.
The pumps are long gone,
leaving holes like extracted teeth
in the muddy soil.
“Private property” mocks the sign,
surrounded by invading trees
reclaiming the landscape as
demolition by neglect destroys
the builder’s dreams.
The roof has collapsed in spots;
the fallen facade cracks underfoot;
the shelves have fallen over,
and the paintings are gone.
The only sign of the former owner
is the door stop
Beauchesne’s Parliamentary Rules and Forms
moldering against the warped sill.
There have been other invaders.
Cigarette stubs and beer cans
show in the uneven twilight.
Nomads have probably slept here,
though it would not have been pleasant.
Once the tiny two-storEy living quarters
attached to the larger store
was a cozy place
where John and Freda chatted
with a pair of young teachers,
and then shut down the shop
before setting off to camp
across Canada that winter
thirty-three years gone.
They returned, but the store stayed closed.
The pumps idle.
He painted Prime Ministers
and she declined.
After her death, he left,
returning only once.
Shocked by decay
and the ghosts of his dreams,
he retired south and fell silent
as an abandoned roadhouse
just south of Beaver Creek.
After 32 years teaching in rural Yukon schools, Dan Davidson retired from that profession but continues writing about life in Dawson City.
