the map is not the territory

merely the convergence
of arrogance and impotence.
Fixed vision gains illusory control
show me? let me see?
ask – ask again – ask me, then you, then me again,
trying to respond lucidly:
I don’t know where the fuck we are.
I’ve never thought we’d be going home.
We are happy on the road together, aren’t we?
Lost though we are,
reading you with my fingers,
only knowing which way is up
because we both deducted long ago:
this road is the long way down.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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