track of Jane,
from
Montreal.
she owes me some maple
syrup.
she promised
that when she returned
from up north that
i'd have a bottle
of syrup.
the real stuff
with a picture of a maple
leaf on the front.
i'm sitting here with
my waffles
going cold.
the butter old.
the bacon
brittle,
waiting for Jane
to knock at my door.
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