Repentance
By Emily Vescio, '20
If Paris is the city of love,
Montreal is the city of cigarette-stained snow,
of Marriott breakfasts and hidden scapulars.
Its March is bitter,
hours under punishing white sun.
We walk Rue Sherbrooke
with arrogant excitement.
In my mind,
I colonize these marble floors
in a wool coat, designer scarf.
Montreal brings the sweetest dreams,
but she never promised fruition.
Montreal is the city of cigarette-stained snow,
of Marriott breakfasts and hidden scapulars.
Its March is bitter,
hours under punishing white sun.
We walk Rue Sherbrooke
with arrogant excitement.
In my mind,
I colonize these marble floors
in a wool coat, designer scarf.
Montreal brings the sweetest dreams,
but she never promised fruition.