I can’t find my therapist

streets of Yaletown look the same

I blame gentrification

wax bars and custom tailors

capitalist sea of things

I can’t afford, don’t understand,

don’t want, don’t need

Kafkaesque this

ten years of confusion

Kafka would also lose

his way in Yaletown

I say to my therapist,

“I got lost again,” and he says

“You are here, on time”

he notices what I do well

while my focus is elsewhere

why can’t I find

a way to his office that

doesn’t find me, ten minutes

prior to my appointment,

gazing at the blo bar, the juice bar,

the distillery, wondering,

where the fuck am I?





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