detail : red face
m e r c a t o r p
r o j e c t i o n
: m o n i c a p a c e
When she awoke
And moved from one side of the door to another
She became a telescopic lens. Latitude and its leanings.
The air was flammable with it. She saw a couple
But they branched into two solitudes
Retracting middle age. Hooded eyes
By the hooded wall. Nylon coats,
Maps slithering from their hands
they spoke only into the splaying papers
maybe not even of the same city
of veins bubbling from the page into the rain.
It wasn't so much an argument
As an agreement to argue. A resolute starch.
And it happened per week
Some would stop her in the street.
Paths off with a foot. Maybe because always an arrow
Alone she stepped brisk.
Couples squinting for directions
Would compass her for it. She'd slip into cartoon
And snake a finger [that-a-way] remote.
And whenever she dreamed
It was always in mercator passion. Her personal meteorite.
A giant globed with weather she would glance a palm to it.
And shiver on that northern shelf..