smoke

they say we're talking six million
people here.
makes me wonder if there could be
any coincidences
will i run into you
comme des aquarelles?
will i see the face i knew,
round, bright, troubled by
nothing significant,
the universe only slightly
weighing on your soul
or something different
a new pair of glasses, a new style, a
stroller, conscientiously chosen
or in exasperation
or a cigarette at your lips
will i have to thank god for that?

nope, curls smoke into the evening from
the 9th floor,
a cabbagetown apartment,
ya could be way down there
having love
or loved
on your way over to bay street south i imagine or,
one of those brick colleges, or,
sherbourne street
on wheels
going uphill yep,
been going uphill
myself too,
so
it's going
going good?