Kiss me sweet lips of the orange
For I am lost in a grove.  I listen
to the tale of the orange blossom.
I examine mackerels across the horizon
and they leave a trail of hope.
Dry bones lie on the ground
Blossom blanketing my hope.
Everything safe and sound
in my heart, my all round periscope
flashes messages in my mind.
I am lost, my inner navigation system
cannot find.
Because I am lost.