A heart-wrenching poem about an abducted boy called Simon – who lived nearby, was my age and sorta looked like me – in Surrey, BC 1982 – by the “Beast of BC” Clifford Robert Olson (NO relation). Recorded and contributed to Dark Poutine Canadian True Crime podcast – shared here for posterity etc.
I’m lying in bed and my wife is stabbing me in the forehead. My skull is hard and bony so she uses a rigid dagger and a mallet to chisel it through. This is a peculiar way to die but I am coming to grips with it. I figure it’s good to accept and come to grips with things, so I am focusing and channeling my energy.
I yelled at first but now I am into steps three and four, repression and denial. I don’t think I’ll make it to overt anguish, I hope not anyhow.
“Simon” he exclaimed
in the Mac’s Convenience Store
I stopped at after
my paper route
to buy a 7-up.
“No” i said.
He meant the stolen boy
from Senator Reid school
The posters were unneeded
We all knew the fear.
Blonde mop, skinny boy
rosy freckled cheeks
They’ve gone away
Faded, scarred to haunt us.
He shared my family name
and was evidently charming to most all involved
It’s not my shame, but the scars are
i walked the same road, yet it wasn’t me.
Negotiating, capitalizing, scheming
Selling secrets to wrench the wound
the discovery reveals more pain
Until sometime on a page 3 day this year.
He left. Cancer, like my Dad i think.
72 as well, i think. I didn’t read close.
I didn’t need the fear again –
he brought to 92nd and Scott.
Cedar Hills, Whalley Exchange,
Guildford Mews and King George Boulevard
These were ours, closest to a neighbourhood
Now faded into condo shopping schemes
Only we notice the changes
since we were all 12 years old.
The paper told us he was dead
the neighbours never knew
His wife flabbergasted
And i never cried so hard
as i did for Simon in 82.