CJ Sommerfeld Staff Writer I counterfeiting aesthetic. not admitting the origins of all you own were neither by choice nor new hoping others haven't caught on, unwitting I through the un-mowed grass segmenting ant’s bodies into three no one’s around to tell you that the red ones bite ant’s bodies into three segmenting through the un-mowed grass I] the weathered neighbor who eats canned cat food has come around to sell her plants again. your illiterate mother reminds you to stay in school IV boredom is a mythical creature when money doesn’t do things for you forced resourcefulness when money doesn't decide things for you a creative-breeding teacher when money doesn't buy things for you autonomous procedure Vv field study: the outsider is always positioned to analyze un-unanimous with the highest register un-succumbed to emotion, instead a logical comprehension, like looking into a sea of tea when the waves calm before reaching the beach a liquid window, waters paralyzed VI we had less fears than our middle class counterparts theirs: instilled by the watchful eye of a hovering parent ours: come later after living a bit VII in sociology class we learnt that when a child is asked what they want to be when they grow up, they'll name a job which adults around them have kids raised in low-income neighborhoods will say something like grocery clerk whereas kids who've grown-up in an elevated one will list titles that elicit better responses VII At what age do we start recognizing disapproving looks from others? IX Terry Fox tee, learning not to look long in the mirror above the brass horse statuettes— Robin Richardson Zellers sweats, smell like mum’s cigarettes hair a mess in mismatched barrettes on the shelf scuffed and caseless, analog videocassettes x blinded by the dystopia of government housing and inner-city schools we made the front page The little school that could because something happened which society didn’t associate to derelicts XI over-ripe fruit and skunk a cursory whiff from across the carpet-stained living room once I mistook one for pop it wasn't as sickly sweet as it smelt instead, aqueous metal I wondered why all the adults in the neighborhood always had one in hand XII open-ended ventures propagated divergent conjectures inventor uncensored XIII the rest now: counterfeiting aesthetic. not admitting the origins of all you own duplicating what we've created through our lifetime adopted artistry hoping others haven't caught on, unwitting