Empty wine glass and coffee,
my forlorn desk —
I leave for food, into the strange world,
old Rue Durocher,
one foot following the other
down freezing late October sidewalk.

There is no more night crying now,
just discarded blue masks
in the street trash
looking up
remindingly.

There is no more night music either,
only empty chairs on stoops
where summer used to sit,
and I, in just my company,
took for granted, it.

I knew love on this street —
finding glances out the window,
and sounds outside
peripheral to us then,
echo now across Durocher
in a winter without friends.

Returning, quietly I eat,
looking around at everything I’ll leave.
Across the room I see
myself
looking back from a better day —
I match his gaze
and return it
defiantly.

≋

October 29, 2020
Park Ex, Montréal