A MAP OF THE WORLD
A map of the world on the back of my
hand - I'd had etched it there in prison ink -
told me really nothing at all - off-center, with
marks of direction. So seldom referred to,
I'd forgotten I had it. I well remember getting
it - it was to be either that or a fair representation
of the Virgin of Guadalupe. But the artist told me,
that day, he couldn't find one. I took it as a sign,
and accepted the map instead. That was long ago,
when I was doing time for wasting
time. All things being equal,
I liked it well enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment