Wandering Eyes

January 2014

i laid an atlas out in front 

of you and said “pick a city.”

you smiled at me 

and the ink bled into your hands

where you touched it.

what i didn’t say was,

pick a city where i can hold

those hands. 

where we can walk the streets

and people will only stare 

because your fingers are

the land and mine are

the sea and they’re

finally coming together.

where people won’t look twice,

simply because you are a girl

and i am a girl and didn’t 

aristophanes once say that humans

are two halves of a whole?

no one should call us wrong

for being brave enough to 

let our hearts wander and 

return to a person

who feels like home.