You Are My Map

[palabrapoetica]

You are my map, and
if these streets could talk
they would scream.
They would yell,
crush me!
roll me over!
turn down my cover
crawl underneath
pull me up to your chin and
feel the softness of my earth on your back.
Undo me, take me back,
separate me from this sand and gravel and
put me back in the Earth as oil. 
Do not disturb, we'll order in.
Call the asphalt plant and tell them:
no wake up call.