Poem: Leftover City -- Malton

I live(d) in leftover city
A weird little town by the airport
Bristling and dwindling with commerce
Trying to retrieve its identity
From the ruins of Warcraft of the forties.
From Victory Village to the dumpster at Derry Road East and
12 minutes to destiny
I live(d) on a Haka noodle by the Soya-sauce River
With floating carcinogens and lurid preservatives of generations frozen in time
Overlooking dry mortar ennui
Oversized motor vehicles
Wearing a helmet and coffin before crossing the road
Everywhere is a prison of
Workers working automatedly
Truckers moonlighting ’til
Some unknown frontier of daylight
Big as the runway
Fast as the Boeings
Open-ended as the godbreaking skies
I live(d) with the horizons gathered at my feet like the neatly folded pleats of a 9 yard sari
Expecting me to falter
at the cliff of ambition
between two skies —