<div class="page old_photo"> <article> <header style="background-image:url(/uploads/52d758c032ea5.jpg);"> <div class="box"> <div class="intro"> <h1>The Way It Ends Up</h1> <p class="byline">Carter Vance </p> </div> </div> </header> <div class="main"> <div class="container"> <p class="summary"></p> <p> <span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">You said with the cigarette swirl, demonstrating <br> flight routes, the shape of Prague's astronomical clock <br> chimes and everything you remembered about Copenhagen,<br> that, “you still end up eating Subway sandwiches at <br> uncleared cafeteria tables, you still end up in some corner <br> with pens, paper and regrets, nursing an <br>overpriced Pilsner and tracing your fingers on the <br> edge of a Lonely Planet pull-out map.” </span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">You know I'd be one of those people in Beaches <br> one day, growing a front porch garden, painting <br> siding colours that would huff-up the Etobicoke <br> Homeowner's Association, voting New Democrat out <br> of a vague sense of guilt, and talking too much <br> about Joni Mitchell and Neil Young in some<br>flicker-light barroom on some street without proper <br> signage I'd take three calls to direct friends to. </span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">And I knew you'd live in Little Portugal or <br> Chinatown, chain smoke cloves out your <br> window above an all-night noodle house, <br> try to drown out your neighbours with lutes and <br> piano keys and thrift shop swing records, <br> skating on frozen town fountains and handling <br> out anarchist newspapers to businessmen on Bay Street; <br> clutching something of a future past to remind,</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"> these white-walled and too-bright cafeterias days <br> are only a phase, were only a phase.</span></span></p> </div> </div> </article> </div><!-- /page-->