Think of ways to explain
where we are now on a highway
at midnight north of Toronto
as we run at a curtain of snow
and standards on the medium
are king palms ripe with light
and lamps on the sideroads
are thin nuns bent at vespers
as the stacks of dark factories
are men smoking in doorways
and imaginary bridges float
above us to connect those places
that have not yet been imagined;
yet this is the way we find our way
and everything is as real as love
and as determined to advance
because what is true is true
no matter how it might be said.
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