But then ni came over. And we drank beer. And he asked me if Toronto had changed much since I left. And I had to admit that I hadn't yet been downtown. And I was abashed.
Well that's changed now. This past Monday I began work as a bike courier. It's wonderful. I am pulling the streets of this city over me like a blanket. And I'm traveling in time.
67 Yonge, express to 20 Eglinton West. 95 Grosvenor second sub-basement to 130 Adelaide West. Standby for more calls. This is more than deja vu.
And the snow comes down. In centimeters rather than inches. And my thin tires throw up white fantails behind me and I say things like "Can you take delivery of this?" and "I need your signature here." And I'm 31 years old and I'm a father and some part of me mumbles that this is not a career. But fuck worrying about that.
I have to ride in the morning.
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