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Easy Street
Everyone wants to get there, but
the directions are vague and contradictory,
and its residents don’t want to share
their methods.
I’m told to follow my heart
and sell my values,
work hard and
know who to bribe.
I realize that with advice like this,
I’ll probably never find my way,
but I still can’t help but dream about
the boulevards lined with trees whose branches
sag under the weight
of the bills hanging down, ripe,
and I still can’t help but dream about
bedside tables that aren’t equipped
with alarm clocks,
and I still can’t help but dream about
the hours that drift past in line
during summer afternoons,
stretching long into the blue of sky
until they touch eternity.
Josh Stewart is a Mississauga-based poet.
Email: Josh Stewart
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