If and When Should Ever Want Want

If modern day gypsies were nomads,

and hearts were less mental than cyberspace,

I'd be this mover and this packer.

A hall labeled You-Haul would

host all of my most sacred possessions.

But I scraped my wrist on the packaging tape

while sealing off a box labeled with the letters

              h  o  p  e

I drew a map for your treasure hunt
made with palm lines and fingerprints,

and boxes were a part of this trajectory.

It is suggestable to live in codes.

Pieces of yellows, blues, and lavenders,
such a collision scope of confetti

to mark different measures in this path.

It will be a long ride, and a very tall order

in a giant-sized truck, fit for two,

but seating one.

And I'll be staring at the yellow line

that draws staccato down the middle

of you and back again.

Earthtones hit the pavement

when I start to remember how

to use the breaks.

Otherwise, everything is lined

in yellows, flourescent yellows,

effervescent marigolds between

an army of traffic lights, and you.

Poles witness the demise of rubber

planted dreams,

to most other eyes, remaining

unseen.

Which may be the fittest place;

not for you,

but for me.

But for me;

the world would go on

marching,

but for me.