runaround tender_square i lie awake in the darkness of three a.m. rest is not forthcoming in all configurations of my frame. words of calm do not diminish what simmers within. in a recurring dream, the tenant takes up more space in my unconscious, blasting the icy air from multiple a/c units, talking to his paralegal about the ways in which i've disappeared. i rise from bed begrudgingly, wash my face and put on makeup as the sky shits light, in preparation for a photograph i don't realize won't be taken. i clean up dog vomit from the foyer floor. i speed fifteen over on a winding road that brings me into the belly of downtown and all its manifesting problems. i am first in line at the cop shop, requesting the police report i filed, requesting a background check for a job. i am told it will take thirty days for my request to be processed, when i made my statement less than ten days prior. i shell out $55 for a part-time job that will take me four hours of teaching to earn back. i drive across town to service canada, to reinstate my ohip after thirteen years abroad. twenty minutes before the building opens, a line forms from the front door. i stand and zip my jacket to my chin, raise my hood, cross my arms, lean against brick and try to "be present in the perfect moment" when all of it is bureaucratic bunk. when it's my turn to step to the counter, i am told i am at the wrong building, i need to head back downtown and i swear under my breath and nearly shove others away from the exit as i storm back to the car. 230502 what's it to you? who go blather from