Toronto

It's cold now but the city thrives, much as in the spring.
I like it better now though cause of the bitter sting.
it warns away the cowards, keeps them in their cupboards.
rows of faceless houses, no real homes out in the suburbs.
where the streets are wide for cars, not for people or for busses
and everyone's in a hurry but no one ever rushes.
i know it's not my business, how the harmless choose to live,
but praise the mediocre, i wont now and never did.
and so the city calls to me, begs for change and for a smoke
i smile and shrug and walk away with "no" caught in my throat,
both hands stuffed in my pockets, and my tongue clenched in my teeth,
teasing, probing tender flesh from too much tongue in cheek.
the old crone sitting next to me mutters to her paper
laughs like a mechanic and begs the lord to save her.
i wonder if she's happy then i wonder if she's crazy
and the nasty voices in my head say 'maybe she's just lazy...'
the queen of streets sparkles with faces i might have known,
decades of decorous artists, vagrants and dirty snow.
The trends are moving westward, we dont look to the east,
goddamn it in this city the sun rises in the street.
a million souls wander by with life written on their faces.
agendas concealed, or clutched to their hearts as they shuffle to someplaces.
the love that we share is not glorious but strong.
we cling with angry fingers and it strings us along.
it looms in the distance, like a comforting fog,
under our beautiful sky painted crimson by smog.
the city it loves us with negligent rhymes,
And we love her back when we can spare the time.