GET LOST
 
Get lost, you say
to an unwanted caller.
I dare you to

say it to me.
 
Exile me

to a place

where I'm drawn
out of self's cage
into ochre and rust,
spices, exhaust,
blaring horns, thrumming

strings, blazing

color so pure

tears rise
like dust
to my eyes.
 
There’s a world out there,
though I don’t understand it,
a world, and all
I want is to know it:
crumbling walls,
layered paint,
exuberant weeds
thrusting through asphalt,
despite all efforts
to keep them contained.
 
The challenge a gift

To find myself lost.