Leaving The Maps Unfolded

we lived in train stations
waiting was our forte
for a better something someday

or at least different
God would send it along the track

between assignments 
we never wanted anyway

with maps from The National Geographic
never folded away
they resembled the creases on the moon

I couldn't male room for once they were unfolded

we would have done better, my soul and I
still in the country of the young
to live from cloud to cloud in chiffon prints

not to assume what was assumed in unison
by people of that time

it would have made more sense
everything disappeared anyway
though it seemed so knock on wood solid back then

at least the landmarks, benchmarks should stay the same
not melt away in the rain like my old pink raincoat left on the train not everything onstage has to shift between scenes

do you know what I mean; 

but you know how the philosophers are about that
everything has
too much space in it

to be furnished.

mary angela douglas 26 december 2018