lay down, face to the ground
look at the lines in the sky
windows to a time you'll never touch
a forlorn stork in a cosmopolitan bathroom
babies don't survive in concrete jungles
dancing naked in the company of devils
as they draw lines around your limbs
chalk it up to Providence
throw out your map
cartographer's lines are of no use
where you're going
putting the cart before the horse
dancing with devils before learning to crawl
but babies don't survive in a concrete jungle
a stork with a waterlogged map
chalk lines power washed from the pavement
forlorn in the bathroom
searching for the ocean
in a lipstick stained mirror