I have a friend
Who draws maps.
He makes ancient cities
New,
Replacing the boulevards of despots
With streets
And avenues
And alley ways
That free people
Travel.

There is a cartography
of the heart,
Unseen on his work,
Blue streets travelled
by remorseful lovers
Parting,
Red paths
Showing the secret trails
Used by enflamed hearts,
Searching each other
Out.

We can find our way
and be lost
at the same time-
A map only helps
If you already know
Where you
are going.