Etobicoke

Evenings in the Timmy’s near Kipling: privy to breakups,

meltdowns, stock tips whispered through wax paper cups

and fidgety glances from the suburb’s more outgoing shut-ins.

The men’s room has art and amenity: someone’s upturned

a Standard American into a Dadaist fountain,

signed it with handstyle obscenities and pleas to burn THC.

Parked by the drive-thru, young men do things to Hondas,

sync dashboards with Bluetooth, compare slutty auto show blondes on

their phones. Buddy had his ricer impounded

when cops clocked him at 200 on the 401—he founded

an online speed trap exchange. Six-lane traffic on Dundas

follows a gothic procession of hydros downtown.

In the future, the screens here—more than just menus—will feature

overhead satellite feeds of Etobicoke’s myriad plazas

and roads. People will finish their coffee and size up

the monitored clockwork outside, looking for somewhere

private to go.