8.

The years I spent in the desert of my mind,
in the concrete bleakness of the northwest end of my city
you spent in the pink and yellow and dust
a training base just north of Joshua tree
Where we went to celebrate me turning thirty
The years I spent singing and learning
You spent playing music and barking orders
Sargeant in the marine corps band
When we met you had had a few years to grow out your crew cut hair
And mine was growing out from a pixie
my hairdresser had cut inch by inch from halfway down my back
“Are you sure?” She asked and asked
A few more years ’til we chose not to kiss in northern Europe
to protect the secular and safe camaraderie we shared
But I decided our rule did not apply to me
Kissed you on an top of an old lookout tower
“A lifelong friendship is a marriage” my auntie said in the summer heat
When I flew back to Canada
Then you drove from the east coast of your country
And the night was cold
So I draped a blanket around us
And our love was a truth I finally told.

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