A Map of Endings
As a child you would ride your bicycle into the city,
more fascinated by alleyways than the boulevards,
the dark places, the honest corners
with their twists and turns and dead ends,
a map of endings. Destinations with no way out
except the way you came.
About this poem.
I really did ride my bicycle from the suburbs to the city as a child, reveling in the freedom and the lostness of a world so different than mine. It got me in trouble now and again.
My journey to new, to where I am today, after my darkest places, involved going backward before I went forward. Sometimes that is what we have to do, go backward to go forward.
From those memories, this poem
PS: The picture was taken in Rome, Italy.