Written submission by Zack Pothier

2nd year Ryerson Journalism student Zack Pothier has submitted to us for the first time! Ever! Neat.
Be sure to cool off from this sticky Toronto heat, as well as check out his captivating words below. Both good options.
Strange Attire

Sometimes I wear
Pyjama bottoms
And a dress shirt
When I mope
Around the house
I feel like no one
Does that

I once answered
The door in pjs
With a blazer
And dress socks
No one does that

I wear suits
To McDonald’s
If I went to KFC
They’d mistake me
For Colonel Sanders
The McDonald’s
People must think
I’m a dandified
Without the
Face mask

How I get
Away with it
Is anyone’s guess


A Trip

Each night I find myself
In the poorly ventilated
Tunnels to your heart
The echo carries the
Soft sound of your ukulele
through the dimly lit
Corridors of your soul
Eventually I’ll have to rest
But you’ll hang over my back
Like a blanket
Keeping me warm
In the coldness of my forgotten life
I’ll turn to you and bury
My face in your chest
Guiding your hands to clasp
My head tightly
Soon I’ll be free


I Don’t Look at Maps Anymore.

I don’t like to look
in your direction on
on the radar.
Reading the place name
for your city
is just too hard.

I don’t like looking
at the weather.
It always says I live in
your town.
That error-of-fact
nauseates me.

Not that long ago
looking at maps
was a form of adventure.
I spent many hours
trying to find this old
North American road atlas.
Now I hope I’ll never find it.

When I rub my finger
along the little gray line
they call a “highway”
and I call a “barrier”
it really brings me down.

You’re so far away.

So I don’t look at maps anymore



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