dinner.

draw signs in
garbage only, traced
beneath the pulse
of electricity, lift bridges
next to smokestacks,
where we lived and used
to search beyond
the smog across the lake, to
see toronto

it was a long drive and
coming promise
to bring us to the
fridge, unplugged and saving
dinner, to the red
and swelling barges as
they plundered
past the window

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