12.3.10

Canadiana

The smell of coffee and hardwood
When all the curves in the road look the same
and moving forward,
you never find yourself in any palpable place
So used to the beauty
in your grown-up eyes

And the lakes are black
which cast iron-orange shadows on our bodies as we
tread
The white water then carries us downstream
the force pushing us past the blackflies
and the feelings of non-identity
As we enter our coffeehardwood surreality

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