so far this millennium seems no better than the last
i get impatient
they're trying to bust the buskers down on the beach here at english bay
i wrote the parks board a letter and now i'm a busker hero
they printed my letter in the courier and the buskers love me
old ladies in highrises complain about the crowds
it would be like moving to chicago and complaining about carl sandburg
or radiowaves
penguins

i never had any money
and i owe everyone a few bucks
if i wasn't so lovable i'd be shot in the head
my dentist won't fix me up for free
i have fans among the cognocenti
too many phones for such a small apartment

i moved on from oatmeal to whole oats and back to cutup oatgrains
steeped for hours and served with cream and maple syrup
you have no idea how good it is

i share a bowl of oatmeal with the romantic poets