I promised you we have no natural disasters,
not apart from us, anyway.
I think you liked my plaid.
Or was it my sleepy hair?
I had a crush on your vocabulary,
and a crush on your girlfriend.
The surprising accent and
the curve of your singing voice
didn't help matters any.

So for these and more reasons, I didn't mind lending you matches
during the biggest power outage of December,
over my sheepish Welcome to Canada.

You like the smell of cut wood, wine, and perfection.
I like the way you and your friends looked in my living room.
In my mind, your golden heads. Your scarves and linoleum,
sophistication in a hokey hand-me-down home,
and the grumble of stomachs that knew the fridges wouldn't
work for at least 72 hours.

And I fell in love with you a little bit.
You and her and her friend.
So for these and more reasons,
I would smile at her after you left,
because she was close to you.
And think of matches and little fires
in the library on the darkest night of 2010.