l o s t
D O N A L D I L L I C H
I deliberately get us lost,
say the blue line when unrhymed
orange is the right one,
point us to a bad exit 10 blocks
from the Mexican restaurant.
Under-dressed senoritas walking
the sidewalk secretly laugh
at our mistake, smiling as if
they know itís only a matter
of hormonal time before
I lick the rims of their glasses.
Stopping, you fold your arms,
glare at me through a gray cloud
of bus exhaust, and signal
with your stamping feet
that Iím a lit butt beneath
them, just about to be crushed.
Whatever you do, even if youíre
Smoky the Bear preventing
forest fires, smothering
my flame, Iíll continue to give
a hoot about you, and pollute
every route to our destinations.
Because: your skin flushes
when youíre angry, your teeth
adorable when they gnash together.
I love your hate more than I
like your love. Only one I find
easily, only one I can see in
the dark, wondering where I am.