i knew it was a mistake from the second i looked over.
wished instantly that i could go back in time three seconds.
fix something that i promised myself i’d stop doing.

even when i’m not trying!
i still half wonder.
this is getting very old.

it’s a ghost hunt, every damn night.
nothing compares to that first sunrise, still so spun.
how everything you said sounded so good, like you had a team of writers.
“how can we make this guy keep coming back?”
they do a really solid job, i mean it!

at the station, 
i have to stop and stare at your hips as they sashay
up 
the
stairs

i sound like an idiot asking
“are you serious?”

warm company and
dark irish beer
concrete patios,
the view for miles.

a shuffle,
you tell me
“i don’t know when
i started breathing
again.”

i look down,
big feet in old
sneakers.
all things considered,
i think i preferred
being underwater.

a brand new world in this city meeting people again italians their blood rich and thick with the spirit and flavour of life and we have to look at our feet when we walk because the waitress can’t count and undercharged us again for our drinks which usually means we walk to the lcbo and blow the rest of our cash on forties and vodka spiked energy drinks because that’s all we have, that little moment when we all see a bit of ourselves in the people around us.