I see it rained, but
I didn’t see it 

rain. I’ve been lost
inside warm, closed
rooms of sleep, leaving 

a map of dreams
undrawn. When I say
I had none, how 

can anyone know
for sure? I reserve
that certain cartography 

for these scenes traveling
through my wakeful self—
put into motion 

by that Townes Van Zandt
song today. Yesterday,
it might have been yours.
You could look it up.