I asked him what’s the purpose of the maple leaf,
in a spur of moment. He grinned, I didn’t utter a word.
Instead, he asked me to go ahead and laugh.
He doesn’t mind. Most people think collecting maple
leaves being ridiculous and gay.
Coincidentally, we stayed in the same hostel,
but in a different dormitory. He insisted to treat
me breakfast the next day. Tim Hortons was two blocks away.
We walked in, there was a couple
sitting opposite our direction, who professed his love
to this girl. She asked the boy to prove his love to her?
The boy was perplexed. The girl then began showing her sinister grin.
The boy took the plate of an unfinished sandwich from the next table
and ate it in front of her. While I was disgusted by this sick joke,
he whispered. “Look at how romantic those lovebirds are.”
During dinner, he ate like a glutton and then drank himself away,
digesting bottles after bottles of alcoholic fermented malt.
We spent a night at the Waterfront Station,
sleeping on the bench. As we were on our way back to the hostel,
the only word he said was I’m sorry.