On Some Rock 

This cities traffic with its 

awkward logic, 

flaunts its sophism with 

expressive arguments composed of: 

lurches, steps, hand waves, the occasional gentle 

BEEP! 

I step, you lurch. We lunge, you reverse. 

You rev, we now. 

Move go, and have. 

You go, we move. 

You lurch, I step. 

Feet tap. 

Chests turn. 

Spokes spin (schk shck 

shck shck shck). 

Hips wiggle. 

Fingers wave. 

I step as you lurch forward we’re caught in this 

ritual of politeness, I hate this city. 

This city—the hot fever dream of some pilgrim 

built on a fucking rock 

and now we all have to deal with the reputation 

of “Canada’s nicest traffic.” 

I’m telling you it’s 

easier to jaywalk in a town where everyone behind a wheel 

wants you squashed on the road like jam (Toronto) 

or wants you squashed on the road like organic jam (Vancouver) 

or wants you squashed on the road like confiture (Montreal). 

Don’t build a city on some rock.