Parkdale, then Princess Street

Make them say yes before you even ask, L’essence de charme,c’est ça. The mind’s a damsel Locked in a tower with her fathom of   hair. Coax the braid and it’ll all be over. The rooms are plain where I am interviewed, Abstract and clinical, and so I glory Like a corpse plant, perfume the marble-faced With the reek and prodigy of my tomorrows. Dying is so boring as the soul Rummages the liquidation sale For a final bargain — But time outbids all comers, and we die Expensively in Princess Margaret Who was herself once so beautiful.