Growing Up
We used to go to the laundromat
and stick our heads in the washing machins.
We wanted to wash all this
dirtiness from our skin.
We never had enough quarters
to finish the job.
We hadn't yet learned
that part of growing up
is knowing when the floor is lava
and when it is just a floor.
We haven't spoken in a while.
In the winter, I left you voicemails
of me breathing.
I though maybe you'd just want to know I'm alive.
Poems in Passage
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TTC • Aga Khan Museum • Pattison
Design and layout by Marissa Korda and Marta Ryczko
Picture of the Growing Up poem taken oin the Toronto subway in March, 2025.
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