Sundays in Toronto

We sought the beating heart of the primal city prying

behind doors, nondescript on Bathurst Street

down Beaches alleyways and unassuming

Danforth patios velvet

places blurry and indistinct

that presented cardstock menus

that read like poetry thoughtfully

and sparsely populated by words we did not know

but came to love, learning a new language and rolling

around their taste in our mouths

fine wine sippers of words.