In the end, “the Boondocks” did win,
though we all had our bearings on compass until then.
Paths drawn on maps, over highways
through the valleys
of mountain ridges.
But the map got a crack, in the crease,
from the folding and folding and folding again.
It happened from paths untrodden.
It happened from traces not traced.
It happened from
putting the map in your pocket,
and bending it opened again.
Maps do not belong in pockets.
They belong in hands.
Plans do not remain on hold,
they’re to be placed
upon the land of Man.
So, the highway that we traced in pen
split open, in the middle,
from the rip in the bend.
And as a result,
there’s no feasible way
from point B
to point A.
The rift led us (both) to the Boondock Land. -clw
copyright: C. Ward 2017
– crickle-bot publishing