Would you believe me if I told you?
I'm not only
here, but I'm also
in a hurry.
It'd be quicker
and easier if I showed you—
there's a crumpled up map buried
deep inside this body
somewhere.
An X—marks
some dumb thing a kid did
one day
a dozen years ago,
and the well-defined boundaries,
also known as limitations,
dictated by each subsequent
rank conferred upon him.
But forget all that; he did.
Just look
for the symbols. Track
the barely audible music
of a left ventricle
as it pulses
red swingtime dotted lines up
behind his right temple.
And forget about
authenticating anything
by its signature.
That thing is always
subtly but adroitly being molded—
just a nonsense heap of loops.
Check instead
for the true pilgrim's insignia—a cool cartoon
lightning bolt.
