directions

we stop & ask the doves for directions.
they are not reliable because they just
want us to end up in the sky.
at a gas station in your father's beard
the man tells us we have to keep driving.
his eyes are cue balls & they ricochet
off the walls. in the grime bathroom we write
our names with sharpie. i leave an ex's phone number
with the words, "call me when you're lonely"
written below it. we are all breadcrumb leavers
in one way or another. who doesn't want
to find their way back into the mountain?
you bought pajama sets for me from 
the department store. no one else was there,
not even at the counter but the place
was bright & pristine. i considered 
hiding in the wracks until i was old enough
to seem harmless. i'd rather be an old woman
than an old man. we wind up in basement train set
of someone i do not know. there are too many
bakeries & not enough payphones. in the last months
of being together i was trying to run from you.
i would pick up hitchhiking bears 
& feed them steaks from applebees just so
we could have some time to talk. they insisted
that i keep driving north 
until i could feel the cold through the walls
of the car. then it would be time to sleep.
there are very few people who want you
to find your way home. i ask the wrongs ones
on purpose. it is a way of controlling how
& where i will be lost. once i made it back
to the lot where our old house used to stand.
a pipe stuck from the earth. i peered inside
& saw a miniature of my childhood living room. 
boxy television with a scene from a the future.
you were standing there with a map 
burning in your hands. you always told me,
"keep your eyes open when you kiss me."
only when i shut them could i see a map of stars.