Mapping The Mind of a Lover

Turn left at desire
near the corner where beauty used to live
and you will find your way
to her dooryard.
The flowers and fragrant herbs
are abundant here
and a great distraction
to anyone who has ever been denied
a kiss or the embrace of a reluctant suitor.
Who wouldn’t grieve this loss
when daisies burst white,
exploding with scentless centers,
ambushing the hope of summer
with a longing for pure adoration?

She is often lost,
even in her home town,
with the directions written,
exact distances delineated
and landmarks, like smiles and laughter,
noted clearly in bold print.

The truth is
she’d rather use her instincts
when it comes to traveling to most places.
The heart has failed to offer her fog-free visibility
so many times and yet the thrill of the ride
pushed her around the curves of disappointment
and anxiety more often than not.
Injury and accidental detours have all been unexpected
delays she was prepared to endure.
The wrecker is, after all, just around the bend
of the boundary of the next handsome hamlet
or county line of a breathless soul mate.

Patience is the only virtue necessary for a successful traveler
to find her way past the potholes and frost heaves of a lonely winter.
Go slowly, notice the horizon and the glory of a sunrise
and she is certain this snail-speed will surely open her honestly
to a conversation at the local diner or village store
with a man named Forgiveness
about the color of ignorance.

At the end of that day
she’ll make her way back home
where she can peel the layers of sweat
and clinging dirt of the road from her skin
with the showers of insight,
falling like stars on her face and bare breasts,
coolly left in the path
of a passing comet
on this highway
to nowhere.