My GPS directs me along the shortest
distance between two points
the quickest way from A to B
showing shortcuts around closures,
traffic jams and wild turkeys crossing
I rely on my GPS like the rising sun
unless point A is the first cry
and point B is drinking darkness
from the bottom of a glass
Where is the app that takes us on byways
meandering along tree-lined country roads
getting blissfully lost as the day unwinds
plenty of time to chat with the shopkeeper
selling key chains and ceramic cows
in a nobody’s-ever-heard-of town
plenty of time to share a slice of carrot cake
with a stranger who is also a grandmother
struggling with waning desire and sore knees
Soon enough ovaries will close shop
breasts slump and bottles of Lisinopril
and Aricept will smirk on the shelf
soon enough we will be wheeled down
the hall under a stark and stiff white sheet
twenty-one grams lighter
as our soul streams toward
what we hope will be heaven
where we will yearn for this earth
and a GPS that takes us
the longest way from A to B
