Life Has No Map

Only a series of cryptic signposts on dimly lit roads.

Crossroads aren’t even crossroads.

Just there to force decisions

before there is enough information.

 

The glass of the compass was stepped upon

thus true north is

anything but true.

We are forced to take our bearings from lesser guides,

the lady on the GPS with the grating monotone,

the priest in the pulpit who forgives nothing,

Dr. Phil and his rigorously toned wife,

who now comes complete with her own line of anti-aging skin care,

developed in laboratories deep beneath the earth’s crust.

 

Desperate for direction

we connect the vastly unconnected.

We begin thinking

the car’s software is speaking directly to us,

that the only true absolution lurks within a tiny wooden confessional

by way of an invisible voice,

that retinol has something, anything,

to do with happiness.

 

Share Story

One Response

  1. Hi Tricia,
    John Garrard shares all your fantastic writings with me. I love them all and I love this one especially. Thank you for being the writer you are!

    Best Wishes,
    Carolyn

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Writer and Poet

BEARA-08-24-alternate_400x270
Tricia McCallum profile

Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

Amazon Profile

Podcast Interview

YouTube Review

New Book

Books on Goodreads

Tricia McCallum

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Thanks for sharing

Archives

Past Posts

Categories

All Topics