Pixelated Minecraft-like houses illustrating their
time; unapologetically ugly and foreshadowing
a new retail style—the big boxy store (Walmart/Target/Canadian Tire)—
much later.
Mass-produced dwellings, seemingly blank pages
in a library teeming with books of dreams
And dreamers inscribing their hopes upon the walls
with scrawling aspirations of old nobility; "let's look
like we belong," they plead in these hallowed halls
of wall-to-wall polyester.
My Brothers
sold out our massive, charming Victorian house
for two floors of newer wallpaper-smothered
East Van mediocrity. Thus awoken
from stasis, I fled the new family pretensions,
to steam-fogged windows and a scratched plastic chair,
where beef noodle soup offers its dark,
salty grace, an honest broth in the air
to counter the hollow drywall.
I find my home in the spice and the steam,
searching ever since for a self-made dream.