home

i'm supposed to know where

home is.

and i have the address memorized in my brain,

so maybe

that means i know where i am.

but once i step off

the corner of the sidewalk at the end of the street,

i am sent

into a labyrinth,

a twisting, living maze,

full of street names that ring bells

but don't form melodies.

people think i'm crazy

when i say i don't know where i am.

i memorize the way to work

but can never deviate from the plan.

i can remember street names, but never what's on them,

the map in my brain

is made of disconnected bubbles

that easily pop.

they think i'm not paying attention,

that i'm willfully ignoring the signs.

but they don't feel the panic

when i'm walking to the park

and realize there's only darkness in my mind

where a map should be.

have i seen this house before?

there's no way to tell.

didn't i pass that sign a minute ago

or was that

last week?

senses blur into fog

obscuring everything but my legs

and i have no choice but to walk

until i reach the edge of the neighborhood

before i finally admit defeat

and turn on my phone:

siri, take me home.

she says

it's a two minute walk from here.