Written by Diane Perazzo
I remember that summer
in Toronto,
I think it was 1984 when
we had so much rain and everything
was so green and lush and
it felt as if the maple trees
on Cranbrook Avenue would
lean over and embrace
our first house and wild grapevines
would grow up and over everything.
Sometimes I dream about that house.
It had glass windows and
dark brown gumwood trim
we worked so hard
to strip the varnish off
using some crazy chemical that
might have given us cancer
except that after we parted
you died young anyway.
And now
I’m getting older and still
not sure who I am.
Text © Diane Perazzo
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