A transit guide from eighty-two rests
Damp fibers bloom on route lines drawn in blue
Lightning etches stations ghost-white on the chest
Wood grain drinks the ink where boroughs grew
Paper drinks the sky dark water
Folded cities breathe in rain
Porch boards hold the storm's slow daughter
Routes dissolve in wet refrain
Red line bleeds to orange at the crease
Green branches fracture where the lightning forked
Express stops fade beneath the storm's increase
Local shadows stretch where stations worked
Paper drinks the sky dark water
Folded cities breathe in rain
Porch boards hold the storm's slow daughter
Routes dissolve in wet refrain
Marginal notes in ballpoint fade to gray
Transfer points blur where pencil marked the way
Altos hum the hymn the storm sang yesterday
Porch swing keeps the measure while the map decays
Paper drinks the sky dark water
Folded cities breathe in rain
Porch boards hold the storm's slow daughter
Routes dissolve in wet refrain
Morning finds the fibers fused as one
Boroughs merged where rain has done its work
No compass needed for the rising sun
Only wet paper breathing on the dirt
Paper drinks the sky dark water
Folded cities breathe in rain
Porch boards hold the storm's slow daughter
Routes dissolve in wet refrain
Paper drinks the sky dark water
Folded cities breathe in rain
Map rests quiet on the porch floor
Rain passes on to somewhere more
