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It used to be simple.
Simple, but not perfect.
We used to be rugged, crooked shadows,
Cold.

They say to congratulate ourselves
For rising above all other species
Including past-men,
For we are our own.
But are we really superior?

We are no longer cold.
We are hot.
We are no longer alone.
We are crammed.

They like to maximize,
Piling layer upon layer
Of magnanimous
Length times width times height.
180 degrees already taken,
Add on another 45.
It’s not the difference,
It’s the sum.
Fifteen minutes after 7:45
Becomes twenty-five on Bayview,
Thirty if we take Sheppard,
But the biased traffic light
Adds another five.
The new buildings will be
Out of place
In the land of bungalows,
But even they are disappearing
Under the weight of the two-storeys.

I guess it’s a recession after all.

We never wanted any of this.
They tell us
You are the generation
who’s gonna change things.
Easy for you to say,
You’ll be dead by the time.

It was hard enough to
Convert to Christianity.
You see,
Not everyone believes
In stoicism.



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