Sitting on the cold concrete curb, I don't know if I'm awake yet.Is this all just a dream? But My mind might be fooling me

Quiet lull of pre-lunch din,Food is warm, inviting inDirected through a course of chairs,By subtle lay, a path of squares

I walk in, warmth grazes my cold cheeks I find an available seat, and sit on a bench made of pine A women and young boy receive their meal, the young boy takes a bite, after he speaks I stand up and proceed to Starbucks, where I wait in line

Rushing in, the air is bustling, hummingStep in line, cheerful conversationMusic calms, voices rise, people gatherIn armchairs, speaking in animation

Communication taking place The people are seated face to face They're all bonding in a comfortable spaceCalmly in line, no need to chase

Panopticon observatory and social laboratory -but, the house always wins?No; it's noctural lights and cloaked clocks, gambling chances, and those revoking thoughts

Fire, warm and invitingOversized chairs for relaxingClose pairings invite sharingBetween close friends

A poetry reading about public spaces and communication in Canadian culture. By Mohamed Ali, Christie-Lee Duncan, Kraig Krause, Patricia Massy, Sterling Ray, Yadwinder Sharma, Abeni Steegstra