Trees and Apples
I can never remember street names
navigating strictly by landmarks
taking left turns just past
abandoned doughnut shops
impugning me to keep my marriage
fresh and hot
and bearing right at the fork
by the exurban skyscraper
to avoid getting lost like my mother
once did on the top floor
when she took a wrong turn
between the ladies’ and dining rooms
until she found herself between a locked door
and glass
the ground laid out below her
like an inscrutable map
