Miles of nothingness for hundreds and
hundreds of miles
only flocks of geese, dozens of them
trapped between snow drifts and ice caps
turning rivers deeper than the ocean itself
creating white rapids filled with beauty
through crystal clear ice water
rushing over moss laden rock formations
colour beyond any city paint store
ice flows and water puddles
with snow patches for beach sand
turning pale blues into near blackness of depth
below clouds of cotton blown about by
the Buffallo hauling kids and kit back from Pangnirtung

My charges, from up this part of Canada
don’t see what the fuss is all about
For them, frankly, there’s nothing to see
miles of nothingness
oh yes and four clouds

A kind of man’s woman
a startling figure, carried well
well into her
(not to be spoken of) age

Wielding the kind of handshake to shake the world
with eye-catching stature to amplify strength of character
a hand shake with promise
strong, not arrogant
purposeful, not side-tracked
somehow elegant without being pretentious

Application of an undeniable grace, a composure recognized through trained eye
confident, yet curious
dedicated, yet flexible
complete packages are so rare, so uncommon, so worthwhile finding in
times of fake hair, fake nails, fake news

My Yin/Yang were caught guard down,
offering Shrek-like devotion to a park-side folk music princess

She need only shake hands, introduce herself with no ulterior motive
unencumbered by small talk, past pleasantries

Chivalry would have me drive her to the ends of a flat earth
and we’d only just met

Tomorrow is my tomorrow
My one and only chance to make
a second impression.

Did he feed you the line about how you’ve rekindled his need to write?
and how he can’t seem to stop thinking about you ahhhlll the tiiiimme?
How about that new take on sunlight
that he’s never seen before.
or how one day he’ll map the heavens for you

did he tell you he’s talked to his dog about you?
He’s full of ****.  
The dog is less full of **** than he is.  The difference is – the dog knows it.

He’s spent this dime a dozen times and the thing is
he won’t even keep his mouth shut about it.
He’s gotta go on and on and on to his buddies about his new “friend” and how he
can’t seem to keep his mind on something simple as driving.

And he’s all about the romance – oohhh the romance – this guy is good.
Flowers on a first date – his “favourite meal” for your first evening in.
And you’ll notice he’ll go easy on the wine –
only until you realize you’re going to have to take a cab home

Then he pours it on thick – thick and fast
So fast you don’t even know what’s happening –
Then you’ve got his phone number
and you know where he lives
and one day (you’ll find some excuse) you call him at work

Ohhh it’s all downhill from there so far as he’s concerned.
There will be one night – not to distant – there will be one night
while he’s reciting some romantic piece he just had to find
you wonder what it would be like to show this man what it is
to really be kissed
to be kissed by you – as only you can.

And he looks at you knowingly – and you at him almost hypnotically
He awwwll that and more – and so you think – it’s a work-night / school night / non-holiday
How far can this go??  How bad can this be?

Then - he’s pouring it on thicker and faster than you will ever remember
moving in with more predatory poetry – using a good meal as bait

You spend the night exploring each other as you never thought you could
as you’d never imagined you would – you think about letting go completely
you re-consider and you can’t quite decide why…  
nor do you consider when you reconsidered
there’s just something about this that…..

Ohhh fuckit – too young to live life wanting
and far too old for what ifs – how bad could this be
he’s a nice man – a good man – his poetry says so
you’re all the woman he’d hoped to be – you’ve shown him that
besides – after ** amount of months or years or decades
it’s time to relax, lie back and get laid.

Then you do  - and it’s beautiful – more beautiful than you’d ever thought possible
During the past ** number of months or years – at al.
He   is    as tender     as     his poetry – all he’d rumoured it would be

while you are as giving as an office Christmas party
– as if it may be the last time you lay with the same or opposite *** ever again

it’s so much more than that – it’s love making
---- well it’s romance making really – there’s no love involved  
-  but it ‘s more than ******* – it’s
the physical relation that makes the world whole
somehow – just makes the world whole….

Then – all at once – he’s a trapped lobster - he can’t find the words any more
There aren’t any romantic phrases left
and he’s read all the poetry ever written by anyone – ever
Deep down inside this “nice guy”
this poet of a million words - this artiesst
really is full of ****

Everyone can see it –they’ve known him for years -they’ve seen this play out time and again
Hell – even the dog knows he’s full of **** –
but the dog has been told – it’s none of his business
and with that in mind – the dog won’t say a word.

Spring had not quite blossomed in this city
almost too far north
even if the spring sales were in full bloom and the spring concerts set to stage
during the moments they met.

“One for P-1”,
a man who knew what he wanted, she admired that
During the first moments of the rest of their lives together
when the computer wouldn’t compute,
he had time to admire her
he liked that, she deserved it.

Tickets expunge, cash exchanged,
eyes met, fleeting (almost not), during those unspoken moments
the unspoken had been heard loud and clear.

Spring had sprung and hope sprang springing
across the stage, up into the office, along the catwalk and the tech booth
then back through the lobby.
It touched them both, they both knew it
during those first moments of the rest of their lives.

Paul McKee