Four blocks east and two blocks south,
The man with the tophat tips his cap.
No, no, five blocks west and carry on north,
The young woman curtseys and nods.
You’re doing it all wrong.  Thataway,
The lad in a crisp suit points with confidence.
Take the underground far east, it’s faster,
The butcher mumbles as he serves his customers,
It’s a long, long walk, do you have good shoes?
The mother pushing her stroller remarks.
It’s a cinch.  You’re almost there,
The man on his morning jog assures.

And so I carry on,
this way and that
around the town,
untIl I find myself
back at
the intersection of
indecision.