We crash through
Class V relationships
with no life jacket
emerge waterlogged
and disintegrating
only to blunder through
thorny undergrowth
while searching empty
pockets for some
kind of map
to this always
foreign territory.

I am prepared to caravan our
Cargo across the country into
New times zones.

Carpool with our college friends
Through rush hour traffic and back roads
Without street lights or deer crossing signs.

Pledge my allegiance to the
Fraternity of road trippers who
Believe all homes are mobile.

Measure myself by interstate
Mile markers—every township line
We cross is an invisible stamp
On the passport of my soul.

Spend bathroom breaks between pilgrimages
Gluing Polaroid pictures of our expedition
Next to city names in our road atlas.

Learn how to **** into coke
Bottles in bumper to bumper
Traffic between rest stops.

Discover new reasons to live
As the glow of brake lights guides
Me toward the next exit.

Some say that I'm wielding the powers,
That I believe in a wood stick I found on the ground, I make magic.
Attractive or not it's all that I got, barely holds me together, with all of my might I'm not sure I can still hold on when the sun goes home for the night, will I wake up and lose my mind or go back to the nightmares I've been trying to let go for so long I can hear my own voice in the back of my head like the shadows I wear across my back, it's sacred but I wouldn't lie about it now, could it be the time, can you say it's the time, I'd move my hand but then I'd start to speak, the kinds of things I've been keeping you from, not because you're dumb I just want to ignore me for a few minutes longer, you're much better off with only my good half, I'd try to unwind within your eyesight but I'm sure I would crumble into the dust. You are the magic, I'm just a kind of catastrophe carrying this story about a boy and the girl who drew star maps on her arms, like wings made to uplift him until they could both fly away, yesterday she put a stone on top of his grave

In the real world
you don't walk unexpectedly
around a corner
and say hi
and make smiles rise,
instead boring practicality
keeps us apart,
yawning gaps
on the map.
But miles don't stop smiles
rising
in a place
in a space
between us.

The sky was so clear this morning I could have connected the dots from the Little Dipper to the Big Dipper.

As I drove home from the cafe on the corner... I remembered something I couldn't quite believe I forgot.

I remember the way the morning air felt when we walked across the lawn. After the rain had fallen so hard we could smell the freshness the next day.

I remember the brightness in your eyes when you looked at the map and pointed at this random dot with some strange name and said this was to be our next big adventure.

I remember the smell of your hair as we cuddled under the stars on a clear night just like this morning...

I remembered this because you were there... You were the reason I could connect the dots of constellations so far away.
You were the reason I wasn't afraid of random dots on a map.
You were the reason the rain made me smile...

I just smiled and drove home to think about you... And I hope you're doing okay.

cartographer of my heart
there are days when I will not be easy to read
I will hold myself upside down and backwards
buried beneath bruised knuckles and cheap fear

and yet late at night I find you saying
“you still make sense to me”
leaving landmarks on my skin
signs that say “you are here"
and here
and here

trace the land lines in my palms
and know they will always guide you home

Another silent homeward
walk across the Orange Street
                                          bridge
and I wish someone were walking with me.
                               These nights grow long,
                               and the days keep blurring.
My hurried steps wander over seams
of the self I have stitched
                     together from the pieces
of the last few years and the friends I've made.
                     And I'll defend my route
                     until the curtain drops
                                                       again.
                     Awash in quiet, I wait in the wings.

Cast my eyes North and East.
Spring breeze half-waves and passes too quickly.
Cast dice and hard clenched teeth.
Losing bets and snake-eyed bitter apologies.

Now it's a warmish Wednesday
night. I swallow hard. Just
                                        then
turned a bend and halted in my footsteps.
                                these thoughts reach back.
                                Your face at my fingers.
Scars from a car wreck when you were young.
I know they always made
                     you feel kinda self-conscious.
I really liked them. Did I tell you that?
                      It's a moot point, sure,
                      but that shot still smarts.
                                                      Aga­in,
                      feeling like the awkward Oxford Comma.
Showed up late to the party.
Just a mark too far...
                     ...sentenced to revise.

Cast my eyes North and East.
It's gotten late. Guess I should keep walking.
Drink down this history,
losing bets and snake-eyed bitter apologies.

Cast my thoughts North and East,
and I wish that you were walking with me.

Mr. Cartographer,
map my smooth, uncharted curves.
Don't dare miss an inch.