Canada
you were once
the country everyone wanted
to bed. My mother
had framed stills of you
next to her Donnie Osmond records
and my father
once rode his motorcycle
up all of your hills
and around all of your curves.

My grandmother even
knit you a sweater
while her second husband
fell asleep polishing his gun.

Now
Canada
your stickling combover
and reticent blue tie
are certainly not enticing,
and when you pry your way
into everybody’s bedroom
and once there
refuse to give head

how could anyone take you
as a serious lover?