The border guards raised their eyebrows at the amount of stuff we were hauling into Canada from the land of the insane to the south. So we had to get out and make an accounting. A friendly interrogation ensued, since the mutual love between our two lands persists despite ongoing questions about obliviousness and drunken driving of the ship of state. My love and I answered their questions satisfactorily and continued on our way persisting in our own love mutually arrived at years ago and now reaching a turning point of stability between north and south, the compass of our combined attraction ceasing to spin as madly now as in the past, but still pointing us to each other.

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