They traveled the open oceans by the light of the stars

and despite my path being laid clear

as though Siri was reading me the turn-by-turn

I feel lost.

Just as a stone thrown from the trail

becomes buried among the thicket.

A slight miscalculation is a critical error

when your dreams lay among the stars.

The answer must be somewhere,

In my children’s smile,

In the bottom of an empty bottle,

under the flashing lights of some

dark and dingy back room,

with a fake name and cheap perfume.

Madness is one hell of a drug.