zebrasindenver

The parking tickets mount like your autumn leaves,

the taxes cost more than my rent,

and  the corruption seeps into the most humble of hearts,

the restaurants close each week it seems,

all the cafes are bitter or full of scenes,

your streets are full of rubbish and the parking signs are all written in hieroglyphics,

dog shit lines your pot holed streets,

and we dream of summers away in the sun,

but for you ma belle, i will never leave,

my city, my home, my sweet.

My sweetest Montréal,

my dirt stained romance,

my city of re-birth,

my wife,

my love,

my home.

Toi.