POCKET LINT

  • another map

    a new map, a wandering map, an evolving map, a map that doesn’t lead you to a place but a beginning, over and over again 

    circuitous, but necessary, every winding trail, every dead end, every roadside distraction, every near accident, every time I almost ran out of gas, because I get distracted

    on some path, to discover how to find/lose/ leave/love/be/cum/show up/just keep showing up 

    to love the variations of blue in the sky, to breathe in its expanse, to stare at hills, bringing into focus a single leaf at such distance, letting it dissolve then into the larger landscape, every moment here held, a leaf that is 

    detours: wondering, to some heart, some cloud, some chest, some home, some leaf,  some friend, some sense of belonging, some body of water, somebody

    while we continue to wake up feeling lost

    and remembering

    a map that makes sense because we stopped needing it to, a map that first taught me/is teaching me, that leads me to you, to us, to homes where we spread our maps out together on tables, and see now, how they overlap and take us somewhere altogether new

    never really lost, but, yeah, always a little, losing breath, always finding, beginning anywhere, again and:

    a journey of love, arriving, becumming

    our map, now, that eventually leads us to an ocean, I’m sure