mapping

waiting for moments
like self destructing letters
occupying voids
with movement
as if
to reverberate
a rebound
of doubtful
sound
i see
linear boxes
in weeks
months
dreams to come
from the stairs
to the sky
half crescents
to blank blue prints
mapping
mapping
a chalk outline
of a life
intended to be lived
behind a yellow tape
of disappointment
still i scrub
sit up
type
the familiar ways
of because into how
with heavy fingers
and
heavy heart
wondering
which star
silently
knows the secret
a tenure of
experience
jumbled into
dusted living
beckoning to be unwound
with simple
action
and
mapping
mapping
whys into done
belt notches
forever snug
tipping hats
like this
and like that