your sites your smells
the way the dawns early light played in your hair.
i know there were people who didnt want me up there, and didnt want your down herrre.
but you said it best the other day in kingston – haters gonna hate, just pity them and rock on.
just another thing i love and miss about you; you really dont care about anything other than
love, beauty, sweet style, old school hockey,
and a christian way of life.
i need to wash my hair and iron my shirt but i wanted to let you know that this morning i was thinking of you.
the way the shadows creep across your cobblestone streets
how the tender crepes fold across little strawberry hills
how even the tiny kids speak french so sweetly before they throw their Legoland cap across the bistro
and then accidentally bang their tiny heads against the corner of the table
and cry and cry and cry
as the cafe quietly laughs inside.
i miss you canada something awful.
you were the best part of my extended play summer vacation.
your eyes were the gatefold of the double album of love.
your lips may not always smile but yr eyes say oui
even for me,
a punk ass american
from the streets.