MAPS

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when i was a wee firefly
in the days of formative flaps
i found a box of crayons
and started drawing maps
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my art teacher adored me
so did mom, though she did scold me
she said: “use paper, not the walls
and map away, if atlas calls”
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i was a whippersnapper - not to blame
when batty uncle explained my name
mom said the nurse cried : “he’ll go far!”
so, i imagined myself a star
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when the other kids were out setting traps
i was preoccupied with my maps
i’d draw the whole wide world on a napkin
with minute details acquired from flappin’
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around the world each and every day
lone treadmill, quotidian sway,
always dawning, always maps
never filled the voids and gaps
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i tried drawing other subjects
proclaimed myself king and artist
dad said
“boy, you’ll die broke and penniless”
i said
‘yeah, but atleast i’ll have a fortress!’
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unstuck came the reel,
i escaped my destined wheel,
but, lo and behold - as part of the exchange
they threw in an achilles’ heel
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the wiseman said :
“repeat after me and
it’ll be them sorry maps no more”
i echoed
‘do re mi fa sol la si do’
he laughed :
“there you go!
now you have …
a shadow!”
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i never got it or made much sense,
grounded-lazy-gray’s followed me ever since-
i spent years trying to escape her,
which brings us up to date on this here caper
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the boy racer talks to his shadow:
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‘darling, put on a pretty dress
and do your hair, it’s such a mess,
i’m kinda expecting company
there’s something in it for you –
if y’knowwhatimean…’
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i don’t really know what’s goin’ on
once again i’m dreaming of maps,
but i finally befriended my shadow
so, they’ll be different this time,
perhaps.
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