when we drive around in our balloon car, everyone just wants to know whether it can float

I reassure them:

yes, it will ferry you across the bow river — with little turbulence, from Bowness to Quarry Park — as long as

1. your socks match

2. you are very tender with the clutch

we got rabbit-paw bibimbap

we got strawberry pie

we got tallow and waltzes 

come in come in

its too cold its too cold

to be by yourself

to be

by your


unfurl your bouquet of grass-fed fingers

put them inside my palms for safekeeping

let me take a spin around in your veins until all the snow is gone

your colours are so bendy and warm

we love to eat jambalaya at open lane swim

our bodies are attuned to the vespers of the filtration system — Mounting verse on verse

our sugary mollusk hearts are so alert and so full

in the early mornings we take candy to the campaigners:

to each, a confection befitting their natural hair colour

before placing them into the receiving hands 

we sound out each title — Taw-fee, Lick-rish, Chalk-lette, Jube Jube

and in turn we are entreated to a kiss on both cheeks

no day has ever been so sweet

in spite of everything being so at odds

mother of vinegar courts winer rye

sets aside a labeled cabinet for each caress of cold wind

for fear of misplacing, or forgetting

the feeling of moving through the frozen grasses


with somebody so long-loved

who is yet a complete stranger

to himself — and everyone at Pizza Hut, and at the ocean

in my springtime, in my timbre

with my palms, callus-thatched

tell me if you come across my gloves next time you are at shawarma king

I think they are probably under a table, or behind the garbage

I can't hear you over all the purring motors at the park

and in the leaves

I get tripped up, tangled in your forests of fake ferns

all of my vertices are crying out for coffee and cupcakes

in the extended season

roses in the sock drawer

tulips in the fridge

my hands are all rotten

and you still hold them

open-mouth kidder district qualifiers tonight at Timmy's, Dalhousie

free Tim-bit 10pack for all who wait the line

bring yer best pants too

and yer best mask for kissing thru

I know you know I shave your legs with my razor

I told you to cover the rice

you don't need to be collegial when we are just walking

we can have a ritual love

I would stay up all night just to hear the way you pronounce your p's when you dream-talk