We must have started to wonder why
our hands are tied like ribbons
on a fancy wedding present

by the time invisible arrows caught my skin
and yours, tugging us into directions
going anywhere but closer. We cut

the laces and turn them away and around
into corners, streets, two-way highways
where each has someone driving the car

lost in a map of the mess we’ve made.
Every destination getting unwrapped
to be another place in the graph

enclosed by the same lines where you and I
trace. But there and here were the same,
our compasses pointing toward our guilts.

October 18, 2010
11:17 pm


2 thoughts on “Geography

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