Scrambled into a downtown bus 
reminded of the discreet charm of the 
sweating college students
Looking for relief in the terror of 
crystals that coat
Southern Ontario, clean
That mummify discarded coffee cups and
cigarette butts
to be reincarnated next spring
An escalator swallowing and spewing the 
tokens of our numbers
of our innumerability 
and our lovely, sweet desperation to be meaningful
as we hoist bubbling garbage bags and crumbling
recycling bins onto the front, wet bank for collection



Craig Dodman said...

This. This is a poem I like. Good job Emily. Liked.

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