Bitches Get Stitches

this is a land far to the north
alive on the lips of children’s playgrounds where
the beer flows like rivers, folks chase black rubber on ice,
and all the men are sexy, hairy, lumberjack-looking dudes.

supposedly,
if they speak,
we can understand them.
but it’s a queer sounding english,
just different enough to make you tilt your head like a confused puppy.

the name of this land is spoken in hushed whispers,
a fairy tale place, an alternate universe,
an unsolved x-file.
canada.

somehow,
and i’m not sure how,
my clockwork crossed the border.
perhaps it was folded amongst other clothes,
or wrapped around native shoulders and walked across.
maybe someone sunk it down into epic shampoo bottle
or was smuggled over in that certain hidey hole.

like i said,
i don’t know the deets.
i probably don’t wanna know.

what i do know
is that somehow,
it made it across the border safely,
and landed in the hands of erica.
look how green canada is!
it must truly be a magical place,
a mari usque ad mare.

(i hear their chinese food is pretty good, too)