Atlantic thoughts of fish, schools on schools
what could be better than this, living with no rules
dog days, your cute face, fresh fade, cityscapes
romantic thoughts again, texts on texts
what could be better than this, living the loveliest
warm nights, green lights, divine touch, just rough enough
just how I like

cityscapes and heartbreaks
808s and carrot cakes
my life took a turn, a left
you tried to make me burn but I left
you at the alter, my destiny I cannot falter
I let me get softer, left the slaughter
watercolour paints and growing pains
deep introspection and soaking rains
get to the root of the issue, the root of the pain
elevate, activate
popping off like champagne

Here is my home town.
I'm lucky to live here,
To have grown here
With all our familiar streets and sights;
The houses where we lived together,
The homes of my childhood friends;
Our schools, churches and local attractions
Are mostly here.
The comings and goings of the locals
Are documented in The Observer.
Familiar and strange.

Today I see a city of cards and cardboard cut-outs.
Sarnia is a museum display of life
In the 21st century I study from this side
Of the display case.
In time, the partition separating us will dissolve
Into a pile of shifting sand about our feet.

Electric sun twirls its lava skirt.
Slammed woks.
Peanuts, chilli, limes and oil
Feeding him its lunch.
Shelter to chilli cheeks and peppercorn faces.
The air can't move its obese body to the rivers for a dip.

Darkness is hard with sturdy edges.
Curtains made of invisible beads and threads hang over the night in silence.
They spill against the concrete under rough hooves and feet
For the night falls like tight heavy lids.
Dusk is a bruised tunnel of vision.

Candlelit giants blinking rapidly.
You don't speak
For the night is never empty
The silence never lonely
Stampede of restlessness surrounding
Grinning from squint to squint
Raising embraces and chance encounters
They scream loudly to frighten the dawn.