Don’t Touch the Stagecoach

If I can’t, I will
need to hitch
another ride
into the labyrinth.

Dust and sweat
and wooden mile
markers will crowd
the view in. A spun-out

tale to find
the way out.

Don’t Worry—I Won’t Get Too Close

Meanwhile there’s this dream
I have of you—

a card game, a maze
of corridors, fingers hidden
behind torsos, a borrowed

kiss, another kind
of numbers played here—
and the song? I wake too soon.