Montreal

i gingerly descend the steep, sweeping staircase to the door.

a pharmaprix umbrella. i set out along sainted streets, all of them men (unlikely).

i pass the same woman twice (unlikely) pushing her child in a stroller, protected from snow and rain.

tarnished mirrors reflect fig leaves. a laptop (not mine) balances on a jenga tower. bathroom walls a bilingual conversation.

churchbells compete to toll noon. carmelite nuns beyond stone walls. an intermittent wail of sirens.

hydrangeas in the snow. back alleys spangled in graffiti and murals.

the 747 to the 55. head canted against the window. people (drunk, homeless, mentally ill) at the gates of chinatown. 

patches in the night air smell of good scotch. vegan sushi, a converted ferry. i filch cucumber water.

hibernating public compost barrels. a dedicated space for friendship awaiting strangers. parks laid bare in winter.

so many miles (kilometers) for this return to self.