I caught the garter at my sister's wedding

I caught the garter at my sister’s wedding.

I got together (“hooked up” on the east coast, “messed around”

in texas) with a bridesmaid later that night.

it was as beautiful as it gets,

those three days in bellingham

(swathes of fog like sheets on a clothesline

hanging above frosted cow pastures in the foothills

of the cascades, a brick church so sharply colored

it could have been made of red and white legos,

the sun doing the midas thing through an atmosphere as clear

as a just drawn bath,

mount baker like a snowcapped giant peeking over a mountain range,

a tiger’s-eye full moon with the diameter of a half dollar),

and life gave of itself as much as it ever does.

as much happened that weekend as usually happened in a month,

as leah, the bridesmaid, said.

maybe I will marry her.

making our fates is a treasure hunt

in which we look for significance in things

and apply what we find to how we live our lives.

what have I found?

what have I found?

and how will I live my life?

like a poet, perhaps,

forever putting into words

what I will never understand

no matter how it is said.