roadmap.

2005-12-09 2:38 p.m.

(hands up,
hands up, child)

forgotten to the places i had been and their subtle customs,
rearranging my skin to fit the cities i had taken
in the forms of stories i had given them
(i could trace streets
into my skin, believing
that you'd find your way back)

motionless, the day came and found me
staring
in search of satellites,
omens,
wishing that i could believe in grace,
could say, 'how fortunate'
or ' i am blessed'

but i am not this kind of person.

instead,
i am given over to short phrases
thinking friendship sthat have cycled over
and trying to rejuvenate them,
trying to balance out providence
with repurcussion.

an excuse for our actions, we had walked
ten days through foreign lands
sleeping in bus stations and doorsteps
until kicked back to the street again, and wandered
open mouthed as rivers
and just as plaintive,
unsure of afflictions,

unsure that we could stay
the same
after hours over oceans,
after arguments on money,
after age had ducked its head in,
had left us staring at speration, at the
distance that had grown between us

widespread with its revelations
hanging soft around our limbs, banners waving
their defense against long forgotten failures,
against injurious comments
knew

that i would spend the last months thinking of ways
to trace the streets into my skin,
in effort against the guilt you felt
for movements taken in your youthfulness.

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