Poem: Tastes Grey

Tastes Grey
by Janice Lee

Is there pumpkin in this pumpkin spice latte?
Because I can’t taste it.

Downtown Toronto,
sitting in a Second Cup – regrettably.
The two grey-clad people next to me
chatter about mortgages and investments
shuffle papers while
sedative jazz music floats over
this high-ceiling room.

For this rainy weekend visit
I wore my favourite hoodie I got at that clothing swap
my two dollar tweed blazer
the trench coat I stole from costumes when I was in that musical
– all muted shades of grey and beige.

I sip my cup of five dollar foamed milk
and unknowing to the bankers on my right
am undercover
despite my tweed jacket
and shiny oxford shoes.