a boy for canada 2015

I  december
printed button ups, boat shoes, you
were always private schooled,
looked the part
asked if my friends were still poor
scraping the bottom of the barrel, you said
slicked back hair and
slight scruff I
kissed you and held my head down saw
a blur of red, so much green
pushed you off the walkway
hope you’d stain a little something more than your reputation and ego

II  august
picked up where you left of, only
there were replacements in the shadow you left, but brighter
came knocking like a cold draft, again,
in the turn of the season
knock knock knocked
picked me up in “pointed collars, leather uppers”
must’ve told lies my fingers couldn’t count that afternoon
slip of the tongue
“lived with my boyfriend”
“i don’t have a boyfriend”
just wanted you to buy me lunch, man
left me in the shade of a purple-less jacaranda
knock knock knocked
my light down
planted a seed in spring, manifested in dark halls and wholesale seats
it’s okay, megan fox knows what i’m doing

III  august, again
(what the fuck is wrong with you)
nothing really happened i said hey and wanted to hang before you thought i fucked a 12 year old and blocked me, you moron

IV  december
(we only exist in decembers and augusts, it may seem)
early to tell too
early for forwards
hoping you don’t leave again hoping
nothing happens
we’re back and forth, back and forth
summer / winter, turn of the season / summer
12, 8, 8, 12
counting down 30s till you leave for another hemisphere’s winter
in other peaks, on other soil
leave me with a mapped copy of your territories
let me trace your borders again
(let me in, again)
(i’ll never win)

Posted in old

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