'least we still lit tho
what makes me stone when I'm alone
spark and sputter when the others like when
eyes lock delicate and expect me to participate in eqtiquette
like when the barista at Jet Fuel or the man of the house
(I'm buying some wool from) answers the door on Wellesley
(since I shop marketplace now) is when
effervescent kindness bubbles out of my mouth?
anytime somebody sings about
how iridescent they see me
what burns is no blaze inside it's just a check engine
light;bro- my oomph is rinsed in fog heavy and misbehaving
I hold it like a crying baby slush-shushing my ruins in this elegant room
what eats me to embers? is a thief
thick as the grief we must yield to
Thank you to our valued partners
TTC • Aga Khan Museum; Pattison
Design & layout by Marissa Korda & Marta Ryczko
Picture of the 'least we still lit tho poem taken on the Toronto subway in May, 2026.
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