between the cushions, there's
nothing but a black hole.

smoke another bowl and
contemplate the facet.

underneath that world map
lies a part of the world- - -
unmapped.
unmarked.

left to the brave pioneers
who remove the push tacks
and gallantly name the space
after themselves- - - soon you
will find my wall next to
Vancouver
in the atlas

and my head will be a city
long forgotten to history.