I know a girl who wants to be a map
so someone can finally take her to new places
to trace her veins like interstate lines
she wants someone to unfold her
and make some sense, for once,
of the haphazard streets of her soul
maybe someone would look to her for help
and perhaps they can find themselves again
she wants someone to depend on her
to be relied on when things get off course

all she ever aspires to be is a simple road map
because when her own, worn out copy is unfolded
she noticed that not once thing was more loved
than the little map she used to find herself again.

(k.w)