city of stars

Brain stuffed fuzzy like wet cotton balls muffled towel abandoned picking up smells like contradictions I lost my shadow so I'm weightless like a boxer or a ghost How do I do this when no one's watching? How do I know this thing is on? I get these flickers like interruptions I get this static like friction in my arteries I wonder wander always backwards-forwards never quite still (always a rustling) never quite quiet (always a distant noise) never quite what it seemed a sunset is a sunset is a sunset is a sunset until the mountains devour it

This is heart to chest the median space South takes me home North takes me to you with bed sores and veterans this corner invokes contradictory memories I take solace in memories of friendship the breakfasts turned brunches turned all-day affairs The dollar store displaced the record store The vegans moved East but the fastfood chains on the corner hold the space of absence the pause before the departure

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] This place reminds me of a home I've never known though I've traveled back often I had another plan but I wandered refused to ask for directions only admitting I was lost until I no longer wished to walk but in that wondering there was a freedom a sadness and a helplessness yes but a sense of reawakening of cradling my fear like a weapon of resurrection of a defiance that stirs beauty of a fragility that holds like cement of a stem bending and recoiling flattened yet standing rooted to the ground facing the sky

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] Taking the Yonge line to you is like retrieving an old box under my bed with photos and archives of who we were You help me curate fragments of me, of us like a campfire anthem Back then, we would assume that we would still be friends but we couldn't have known the distance we'd take to get there We are recognizable through habits and gestures but timing is everything (meeting now would be impossible) These blocks are scattered with stilettos and food chains hot dog stands and sports bars like forcing an earlier version of us more trusting, naive, vulnerable stupid (let's be honest) But there is something precious in these moments though cliched or juvenile You have known me and I you thank you for keeping count

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] Night sets in motorcycle running like an old man chin back asleep on the couch the patting of sandals on heel good acoustics always reminds me of loneliness the mirror of your reflection like a bird in a cage construction lane like a footnote like the email I'm afraid I'll send you after saying goodbye or the utterances of love that could escape my lips if you called without warning don't call don't write I will stay here on these asphalt rapids listening to the echo of my ruminations

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] The square is teeming with sticky little fingers balloons like a flag for childish abandon Each tent, disguised as an attraction advertises allegiance to the community movement and murmurs there is no mystery here and that is a comfort Festivals are a lullaby cradling the city sky wrapping a sense of safety the warmth in surrender [Tonight in Mel Lastman square, the mormons migrated East]

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] Marble castle on a concrete Island Wind-swept flat land what human hands have made trees stand standard emerged from the predestined follicles It might be the evening glow of the summer sun but each pair of legs that passes seems to defy the metronome each sightline looks past the electric lines and traffic as if defying death hand to hand to phone to wallet emphasizing a point or grasping something unsaid inspiring beauty

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] Refuge for a rebellious heart the rustling leaves absorb the shock of my restlessness guilty, aggression and as if sighing in slow release gently return my thoughts to  the sky as if placing a cloud upon the blue waiting for the bus like a regressive pilgrimage rethinking, reshaping what is sacred By recognizing myself again without your shadow I am reborn in brighter colours hand clenched  holding what I've broken

[Another ode to the TTC and other tenuous relations] McDonalds fell in love with 7-11 at Yonge and Sheppard They are bounded by cement in a loving embrace And the sky is scarred with smoky clouds like tainted love gone repentant The cars pick up speed like my new way of breathing metastatic circulation system "I never meant to hurt you I never meant to make you cry . . . " I'll preserve your memory from a distance up-close I've become too accustomed to every blemish every weakness and I need you as you were so I can't know who you'll be The intersection grows more restless or am I simply projecting the blinking lights will be my Northern Star the street signs a reminder I wanted the detour not the destination