Articles, Depression, Environment,

The Birthday: Poem

I acquired some spirit of misanthropy
Monotony and glum of Mississauga
Spell it out for me, baby–
I couldn’t
Red-dot bugs
And funny spiders
On linoleum of
A fluorescent pool
Swimming and speaking of
a hotter future and glamour and
Grown-up girls with push-up bras
Where a wound in expectation
Appreciation of innocence
We viciously swam
Hot and forged in errant
Did I walk away when the beat
To the floor, a girl sucker punched
Down into the pool
–Little Ryan punched Lauren
But I still swung at the piñata blindfolded with a bat
A skinny boy demonstrated
That he could protrude his vertebrae
And still skim the floor for fallen piñata candy
With ease
Fat and funny, I let them be
The empty party for more ice cream cake
And a sad girl dangling her feet in the pool with
A bloody nose
at her side
“What happened?”

Happy Birthday
They sighed


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