mapsA Poem by Nobody.maps your heart draws crude maps to places your mind says don’t exist. street signs refuse to admit to fraud. God, it seems, will not explain anything. fame ruins everyone it touches. there is no conspiracy, just Santa Claus lies and Tooth Fairy quarters on which to sharpen cynical fangs. a pulse is the first indicator that you’re lost. a roadside stranger with kind intentions gently explains the problem. “You can’t get there from here.” © 2011 Nobody.Featured Review
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8 Reviews Added on January 25, 2011 Last Updated on January 25, 2011 Author
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