beck

i used to think of beauty of
british columbia and its verdant shadows
and lands distant until that night i
met your son forever four.
we listened to rock music jangle sounds
that birthed our testosterone
sounds tolling a mediocre ring to usher in
this decade they forgot to press vinyl.
wet meat avocado peeled
an unnoticed decadent pairing brought
on the ceaseless new flows of athabasca tailings
and fires of frackwater. we swallowed
all with saki warm enough
to unshelf that tiny photo album.
your son knew only time of perpetual hope
frozen by his aged innocence
and given over to no man. he was
as a machine of stoicism 
shrugging every tussle they threw
wearing his ochre skin
like a deep space swimming suit of courage.
but his demons did finally come around

and when they did
i know he gave them his soft cheek
and offered quiet embrace.
on that night i met your son
i fell in love with you
each and together.