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This is the story of true love. English service

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Parkdale, Toronto, Ontario.

Late evening, early October.

Babysitting

I’m the innocent: this infant
screeching on my hip, scattering
the deer sidled up to the house
to nibble at the window boxes.

All the pain from past lives
lodged in his lungs,
estrangements, exiles, terminal
infections. Crying for those lost
crops, inconsolable.

Please, forget those years,
dwell instead on the ache
of emerging teeth, the cruelty
of your parents,
their night out on the town.

   

when i am overtired on my way home i go into the drugstore and wander around and end up with a glue stick and maybe eyeshadow in my hand. when i get to the counter i think what the fuck am i doing? and put the items by the magazine rack and exit confused and exhausted. goodnight bird

table lampifyoulookoutthewindowforthe full moon make sure to turn off the light on the table by the bed