the cartographer

boy, oh boy,

seems as if we’re stuck in this here old map,

in the orangely-denoted topography,

wherein lies the undulating river valley

of our biography.

 

where the blues, their hues,

intensify and I lament

how your irish sea and my tyrrhenian,

how your green old grass and my titanium

will never meet, never meet, never meet.

 

and if I were to speak

of the pelican’s drenched and broken beak plummeting

fast toward the horizon,

and the water ‘neath it

unwittingly compromising,

would my love say,

“hush my sweet. it’s only fast asleep.

he closed his eyes but for a moment;

he’s fast asleep, fast asleep, fast asleep.”

 

turn the page – a continent!

growing barren, gone malignant,

wherefore you stand the oasis,

you lead me through the darkened spaces,

we make our way back to the green

with no traces of a stone or a scratch.