On that bike trip across Canada
You lost your Queen cd at the Grown-Up House the last time you performed in Vancouver, before you moved to back to Montreal. I don't actually know anyone who lives there since Charlie moved out, I couldn't help you. And maybe I was a little nervous about asking people to help me get it back because we enthusiastically broke that table in the Jail. It was a Western themed party.
Now you're here again, and we're in my room doing chores to the mixed cd you made me, supplemented by a three page dissertation you wrote on why you picked each song. I think even my toes are smiling, listening to Fat-Bottomed Girls, and you're blushing and trying to explain to me that you don't actually have a fetish, just a type. And I have to admit, with your grand-Maur taking pot belly shots at you, I can understand that you're a little nervous around the subject.
I have such a fondness for muffin tops, and there's probably going to be less of you to hug when you get back from your bike trip. Traveling with vegans, who will make you extra wash the camping pans if you even attempt to make eggs. You've doubled your dairy consumption here. You love my lasagna with four types of cheese, the lasagna that your mother would never let you make.
You are the biggest person I have ever dated, this is an observation. Your chin rests on my head when we stand together, unless you're surreptitiously crouching so you can rest on my shoulder instead. I can cradle the whole of you in the water, and one day I want to be strong enough to do it outside too. Makes me forget, with my hand sometimes clenched in your hair, just how much you're letting me do this, making me feel presumptively powerful.
I am a flight enabler. Hell, I even bought a sling to make you feel effortless. I think you're the most free person I have ever met, I wonder what you were like before you were so clearly you.
And sometimes on your bicycle, you whisper, the wind picks up your coat and you feel like you're flying. Be safe love , be unfettered.
Now you're here again, and we're in my room doing chores to the mixed cd you made me, supplemented by a three page dissertation you wrote on why you picked each song. I think even my toes are smiling, listening to Fat-Bottomed Girls, and you're blushing and trying to explain to me that you don't actually have a fetish, just a type. And I have to admit, with your grand-Maur taking pot belly shots at you, I can understand that you're a little nervous around the subject.
I have such a fondness for muffin tops, and there's probably going to be less of you to hug when you get back from your bike trip. Traveling with vegans, who will make you extra wash the camping pans if you even attempt to make eggs. You've doubled your dairy consumption here. You love my lasagna with four types of cheese, the lasagna that your mother would never let you make.
You are the biggest person I have ever dated, this is an observation. Your chin rests on my head when we stand together, unless you're surreptitiously crouching so you can rest on my shoulder instead. I can cradle the whole of you in the water, and one day I want to be strong enough to do it outside too. Makes me forget, with my hand sometimes clenched in your hair, just how much you're letting me do this, making me feel presumptively powerful.
I am a flight enabler. Hell, I even bought a sling to make you feel effortless. I think you're the most free person I have ever met, I wonder what you were like before you were so clearly you.
And sometimes on your bicycle, you whisper, the wind picks up your coat and you feel like you're flying. Be safe love , be unfettered.