Ink on our map won’t change. The way I cock my head will. While I look for us amongst the topography. How upside down will you hold my world for me today. What may come from conclusions drawn atop crooked necks.

Spin the wheel with me. Make believe culpability belongs here because choice used to. When the floor gets damp what else might I expect from you? You grow gills when the wind gets wet. You breathe fire in the softest way. You lit a cigarette sunset to make vermillion red.

Show me the angles. Teach me the turns. First the wrong ones and then the rest. Tell me how I’ll be the one teaching you at the end. I’ll pave right through dead ends to make the turns you’re sure are right. I don’t recall how long I’ve known you. I can tell you in my sleep how long we’ve loved.

I’ll slip from our bed at night only to murder doubt and bludgeon hope. My hands are clean and gentle come to rest on your hips again. That blood will stick to any hands but ours.

My lips can be yours. My earlobes and my mustache too. My middle toes and my mouth and the rest of my foot to boot. I’d like that. When I’m yours, I am yours alone. When I am with you, I am nowhere else. Without you I’m nowhere now. But I know the map and my way will be made back.