I try to hide it, but stairs always wind me.
I climbed the stairs to where you were.
Wiping the traces of sweat from my face,
I saw your silhouette.

Transiently, we existed
a shared decision bringing us together.
And almost robotically, we left.
So easily, and so cleanly.

Each meeting is like crossing through a doorframe.
When we enter, maybe we both wonder

When I cross the doorway,
who will I be when we leave?
How might I change,
and what might it make me see?

If we spoke,
I imagine it would change me.
When will my imagination
Come to fruition?

This poem is inspired by some recent interactions in my life. It doesn’t follow a pattern, so it is almost my version of a “stream of consciousness” poem. It is also meant as a commentary on an aspect of Toronto I find difficult to get used to, which is how many interactions we have seem to be so transient. It could be making a flash of eye contact with a driver while you cross a block to ensure they stop to let you pass (or rather, so that they don’t maul you over), walking down the same street yet rarely seeing a familiar face or how the city always feels as if it’s rushing from one meeting to another. I feel there are so many stories that make Toronto what it is, and these transient interactions give a glimpse into each individual story.



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