a lesson in cartography

perched on the hood of your car,
my back against the satin
of the sun, i wait as you draw
red circles around the places
we've been, blue around those we
haven't yet

and ask
if you ever get them confused,
blue and red dancing
the way paints
swirl and twist with the
swish of a paintbrush
in the small hands of a child discovering
that two separate colours
can form

a new one
and maybe every place
is purple to you now- individual
colours indistinguishable
under the harsh light of this
sun, old and dank
like an

interrogation lamp
so we will visit these
places (again and for
the first time)
and you will tell me
the same stories and i will
laugh because even when i
tilt my head, you're still holding
the map at such an angle
that i can't

see.