i've bought a bunch of shirts that don't fit me
and a pair of wingtips with a busted heel
i disassemble old televisions on my days off
and i feel the cool summer breeze on my skin
you face me with your back to sherbrooke st
my sweater is itchy and has holes in its seam
today i write everything down meticulously
sheets of paper scattered around the apartment
i learn to like my job as a stenographer
and i make notes to myself every day
i listen to the voices on the breeze this winter
and i hear what they have to say to me