parenthetical (parenthetical) wrote in pillow_book, @ 2007-10-28 22:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | not a goddamn poem, pillow book |
(On the back of a scribbled map of the town they are in, showing motel, diner, main street and haunted house.)
"Mapping my moles?" you murmur,
Your voice low. When I look up,
Your eyes are dark, and you're smiling.
Don't need a map. I know them all
By heart, can find them in the dark;
Fingers and lips, grazing one to the next.
Just like I know your heartbeat, and
The size of your shoes, the size of
Your smile as my mouth finds the next mole.
I shake my head, don't try to explain
Why I don't like maps and manuals
For the important things. Not for you.
I know the way, I won't get lost,
And it's not like I want others to follow.
So no, not mapping, Sam. Knowing.
Because that's the problem with maps.
Some things are too important to risk them
Falling into someone else's hands.