Future generations will not be drenched

in the light of Honest Ed’s while in line

for free turkeys or hot dogs. I want to

flip through an Eaton’s catalogue just to feel

the glossy pages between my fingers.

Tim Hortons is now an American company.

Parkdale is hotspot for vegan beer and

community displacement. Coffee shop

hipsters argue the merits of gentrification

over almond milk lattes. The Gargoyles

at Old City Hall were once made of sandstone,

replaced due to their erodibility. Their bronze cousins

watch over the city in comfort, knowing

they will last much longer. The Church

of the Redeemer is an anomaly inside

an enveloped of office buildings and

retail stores. Across the street, the Royal

Ontario Museum is flooded with immigrants

paying for a glimpse at their homeland.

We all flee to the suburbs, afraid of what

the city used to be. Sidewalks lead people

out the downtown core—an undulating

tangle of veins from which we bleed out.