You find your upbringing in the working class town of Ville D’Anjou
There is a scandalous rumour that Rene Simard had a glass of tap-water at your home
Qu’il a dit Woooooo, l’eau sont fin!
You stop using your Thigh-Master because deep down, you know
you’re more than a pair of gams
You stagger, get fat, and cheat with your married agent
Wear a weave because of those lousy dye operators on Dundas!
Let your brain cannibalize itself until your poems all begin “Roses are wet,…”
Realize you have a damned good war novel in you: CHAPTER ONE, WE WERE SCARCELY MEN
Scream your name to nurses and bartenders
Insult art: Too goddamn depressing!
Play with your pills, You are the mean one, Seconal, and Dexie, you’re nice
Realize Toronto is no big deal. Why didn’t you stay in Anjou?
Commit suicide wearing a Travilla gown
There was never enough oxygen on the plateau