Bonsoir, Whistler – sometime in October 2012

Mika said,
"Pack a toothbrush and clean underwear."
Then hauled me away
Up the skyway
Across planes of concrete, under
power line cathedrals, jetting through parking lots
with shopping carts and groceries gathered
haphazard
To a chalet
dropped on the mountainside
like an inverted heart.

Up in the fogged-out trees, 
the rain patterned the pond.
And that night, over spaghetti dinner,
a photo was taken
of me and Graham
right before it dawned on me
that his light could blanket landscapes 
just like mine.

We hauled that ukulele around town,
played pauper dress-up,
monkied around the rings,
and eventually,
inevitably,
collapsed
back at the chalet sprawled on the carpet
laughing without words
morning sun strumming tunes
knees up
arms out
lives full.