There's a little regularity to life
A cadence that can be counted upon
Or just on, if one is down
Usually, sideways
Let's not dwell on the prepositions
It distracts from the wild inadequacy of this sad excuse for a map
I thought it was written in pen
But of course then it rained
And there was an adverb to deal with
Obviously
And we ended up going nowhere
Because I felt like I didn't know where to go
Or what to do
So I broke out
I jettisoned
Onto the paths that the original map didn't even include
And so here I am once again
Living the only reality that seems to come like the tides
The reality where I'm lost
No map
No compass
No place to go, necessarily
Though I do have to remember
That I am somewhere
And there is a map
Of where I've been
That could be consulted
When considering
That going somewhere again
Will also consistently arrive
Even if I don't have a latitude or longitude
And wouldn't know how to get either
Roman Ryan 