I Used to Take the Gum From Your Mouth


when you passed out
drunk halfway up the stairs,
a displaced Mi’kmaq
hung over a staircase
on Northern Dancer Boulevard

afraid you’d choke
to death on Dentyne,
I’d chew cinnamon-fused hops
before spitting leftover gum into the toilet

I knew you’d hate to let a corporation
have your last fire breath



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