Without You Is A City I Don't Want To Live In
Without you is a nail in the wall. I consult
dreams where you're opening the van door.
Leave my signature in the mailbox.
Gave your tooth back. Spam call
hope it's your number I forgot on purpose.
Dumpling wrappers with the TV on. When
do I get to stop losing you? Journaling, again.
Your fossil in my chest. Hey, you know there's
actually coast full of dinosaur bones called the -
oh, right, yes, this is your stop. I got the grant!
I say to the soy sauce bottle. Summer on its last page,
I'm checking your instagram. Do you radio host your
thoughts before they exit sign? Someone else harvest
this feeling. Turn it into a song you hear by accident
at the grocery store, weighing peaches.
Poems In Passage
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Picture of the poem, Without You Is A City I Don't Want To Live In, taken on the Toronto subway in April, 2026.
Check out my other awesome website, Toronto Beaver, pictures of Toronto from a Beaver's perspective.
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