Toronto 99

It started like a movie when two women kiss and you think this only happens in the movies - A round of jaegers for the house and T- was everyone else that wasn't in the bar. Outside a two homeless drunk argument using 'eh' to mean 'period' and his son's on a murder rap. This isn't a cold you can't stand but it won't turn off and every subway grate is a five star hotel like San-Fran summer in October. Don't call the tower a needle, for your eyes only doesn't mean bond, but it's an international cast of cutaways, velcro ties and undersized teddys. You can piss to the great one's scores or in le hotel there's french lessons when you stare at the wall or at your business. The color of money is always the season you're waiiting for. Kelsey's, JackAssers and outdoor dudes like to think that south of the border means couch bound warriors. I keep waiting to hear how we're welcome, how a french waiter might apologize the fifth time he crushed a toe. Every purgatory's a tonic waiting outside the century room for the fluid spilled on lot 332 where the lonely communist daughter trolls to stiff little fingers. There's a slight comfort in procedurals like CSI is a slice of meatloaf and potato with gravy. I watched the news and learned that it was our war, but their victim.