THE USELESSNESS OF MAPS

You were always
the bit

where the map creased & tore
leaving us unsure

looking through a hole
at our own big toe.

You were always
the bit

where the map was folded in four
and had to be awkwardly unfolded

just to see
where you were.

You were always
the bit

that was just off this map

ending in mid air...

...see next map:

...the missing map!

You were always
the lost map.

You were often
the wrong map.

The map that there was...

...no map of:

my wife watches tik tok in bed
sounding like she is trying
to tune in a radio to someone's life
so many voices fading in and out
or maybe a spirit box with a message
from the other side

I'm with Johannes Gutenberg
some 570 years behind
the smell of the print as much
an enjoyment as the words inside
the book I am reading
about his life

we lie
a respectable distance between us
centuries apart

four students
printed out sudoku
ac unit whirrs in the room

the disappointment pressed
slacks
too sunk for
integrals and L'Grange

krooser warms my desk
eyelids drooping
sentences left in the birches

My footfalls, they
Were the could-care-less slaps
Of a housewife’s plastic slippers
Upon her unyielding hardwood floors
When she unwillingly gets up from the sofa
To open the door
For her ugly husband.

A tear comes with each poem
    written on the earth

Even with a happy tone
     a tear comes with each poem