There was the time when we had our back to the camera,
Atop a pile of papers and patched sweaters.
Remember when we studied the age of roses
And worshiped a humourless God?
Midnights passed. Moon stayed in half.
We took up space to make us visible lovers,
To be heard and to be watched.
Ah, those curious eyeballs. We owed it all to our
Vulnerability and profound lack of tolerance.
We had each other to dissolve our complexity
And move forward to even more lost and found nights.
Block, block, block. All was blocked.
We did flip the page that summer of cruel summer
When one more time she said it best:
“‘No’ is still a complete sentence.”
Toronto, March 2016