Search
Kangaroo
And at the centre of it all
where the bookstore used to be
a Tim Hortons full of lost souls
and a store called Cash Money
where they lend three hundred dollars
for a twenty-dollar fee
and the coffee tastes like burnt coals
and the timbits cop a plea
and the kangaroo will find you
when you live this close to me.
— Earl Fowler
Tims are malignant mushrooms; serving up poisonous sugar confections and food so fast you can’t describe it as edible.
When people line up because a Krispy Kreme deigned to open in their humble burg; that’s when you know the definition of pathetic.
The 12-grain bagel pleases
Apple fritters' sugar teases
While
The rare Black girl behind
The counter, stained and harried
Smiles
And Tim's is human for
A while
Brilliant rhyming, Earl. Fine poem (you were wise to leave out the wannabe wallaby).