We travel the same paths every day,
usually the same paths, the same way.
The same paths between our homes and
wherever we regularly might have to go.
We know them, or rather, maybe, it is
our feet that do, because if you asked me the way
I’d tell you a series of here’s and there’s. I’d tell you
I remember to turn left at that light, because
if you don’t you’ll have to pass the house
that fooled me for a month, feeding me
steak for dinner and inviting me back
to fall asleep on red satin sheets. I’d mention
how I’ve thrown up at that gas stop, and
how it was my soulmate who first took me
to the dive bar we just passed, which means
you should left again when you see a tall, lonely tree.
I’d tell you then that when I’m sad, I take
the roads closest to the sea, so I can finish my coffee
or hear the end of a song on the radio.
I might not get you there, in fact I might leave you
more lost than you began. But you’ll find your way.
Wherever we go we have been before,
We can trust in our feet and not lose our way.
