Stories About Ourselves - Maps & Atlases

Blue Christmas lights

Tell us stories about ourselves

I saw you biting yours nails

Through a pane of glass in that restaurant

Late night conversations when

You told me there were no stars

Just satellites

And I lay down in the shirt you used

As a towel when there were none

Left and that the stars were a felt

Blanket draped over tabletops of a

Smoke seeping factory (?) gestures

Bent puzzle pieces we are

Small cities tall buildings

This glass flipper is giving me blisters

Now

I’d prefer not