Does Canada exist

She wrote to me
All the way from Toronto
Which is actually farther than Detroit
next to itself.
And when I held her letter, crumpled by flight
I smelled her wet breath on my face
Warm
and slightly stale.

She stopped on the train
On the tracks
she said.
Until she couldn't think beyond the hailstorms and pounding collapse of the rail yards.
Like in Chicago
she said.
Like in new York city when new York city failed to exist.
Like that time in Katz's deli
Blazing through two pastrami sandwiches
toxic mustard staining her cheeks
on the Friday after Thanksgiving
when the tourists packed the streets
reminding her
of August in Rome.

looking back in
she was stunted
in proximity of her ancient similarities
between kafka and isolation
so
she fled
quickly
back to the ice
back to the flooding rains and lichen catelogues
back to the ancient diaspora where she soaked herself
in the
Absence of anything
Absence returned.