the grey cement
bleakness
of a sombre montreal

lazy repetitiveness
of the nothingness

fear of economic displacement
gathers like a polluted
Industrial fog

the choking nausea
taken for granted
in the sticky
mystifying mist

without the sex starved children
in their twenties thirties wet lipped
sitting at their cafes
the death agony would
be more visible

without sport and  wars on t.v.
the boredom would kill