Pandemic Traffic Reports

By Anita Lahey

(This is one of a suite of poems that are collages of phrases from the traffic reports by Doug Hempstead on CBC Radio in Ottawa. My son & I started jotting down funny/odd/unexpected things Doug said during the pandemic—he is not your average traffic guy—and one day I realized I had all these excerpts from traffic reports and made some poems from them. This is one.)

The Church That Became A Spa

Eh, none of that, there’s
no traffic at all. The Chaudière

Bridge has simmered down. People
are behaving themselves. You might

find yourself in a long lineup
at the drive-through for coffee.

No collisions. People aren’t
running into each other

and other things. That’s good news
for you and the police. No one

wants to get out of their car
this morning. It’s bloody

cold out there. It’s not
an afternoon for Doc Martens.

You could walk to Southpointe,
but you couldn’t really

drive. That’s not a good
winter boot at all. Skating

conditions, as of 3:55,
are “fair,” they say—

the whole skateway
is open. After coming

around that bend you’re
going to stop, right there

on the highway. I mean,
it’s stopped. It’s just—

stopped. Over in Gatineau
seems the nastiest. Not

sure if that’s people
who are freaked out

or stuck behind something
salting the road. Dramatic

slowdowns on chemin Vanier.
Belfast—an eight-car

pile-up. If that’s your
route to Ottawa, boy oh

boy, you’re not going
to like that. Police in

one direction, gawkers
in the other. The snow

makes things treacherous—
There was a car on its

roof, over by Carling.
There’s a berm rising

between the sidewalk
and the road. Just after

the trailer park.
Past the church that

became a spa
that became

a cannabis shop.
As soon as you get

to The Split,
you know that it’s on.

from While Supplies Last, Véhicule Press, 2023