Trustworthy Maps

They tell us we’re free,

A tempting cult, indeed.

If you don’t get everything you want,

Stop, change course, you will get it

On another if you just take charge.

A man who lost his map

(it actually never occurred to him

that he needed one, so great

was his faith in naturally

following his good instincts)

while hiking in the mountains

came to a fork in a path

and chose one leading to

death-defying precipices and bridgeless chasms,

so around he turned,

went back to the fork,

the other path he took,

which led to the same risks and horrors.

Romantic to go mapless, but liberating?

Secure to go mapful, but boring?

Disquieting to make new maps, but wise?

Someone said that the flea markets

And thrift stores are full of old maps,

For new ones must always be made,

If people are to learn from the mistakes of
Explorers,
To say nothing of becoming them.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Tonight, I came home. I took M out. She took a long dump, the kind where she squat-walks the length of five or six feet, dribbling turd chunks here and there, then jumps up as if squirted freshly out of the womb, swiveling her head and stretching out her paws, crouching and then running in circles, full of child-like glee--mirth. She sniffed the piss-marked buildings, and tree trunks, and various detritus on the sidewalk, sometimes giving them a fresh coat of her own. She whined as we ascended in the elevator in anticipation of a treat, a nuzzle, a prance across the hardwood floor. She begged for the last remnants of the baguette we nearly finished last night, as I re-heated a bowl of chili. She turned away from baguette watch, toward the door as she heard the elevator clanking and someone arriving above. She waited and finally dropped her head sorrowfully. I took the almost-too-hot-to-handle yellow bowl out of the microwave and lumbered indifferently toward the couch. I turned on the TV as M darted up on the couch and turned methodically in her circle to snuggle up next to me only to then unravel herself to beg for food. On the cable channel that slowly illuminated before me was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The ending was happier than I remembered.

Light In December

Light in December

Light in December

Like a green love pushed

Surprisingly forth

From the brown compost

Of a scorched summer.