For Curt
The road goes north or east,
And no one knows if it might end
Or where. The sycamores lift leafy heads
Away from the highway’s movement
Above bridges still being built.
The exit calls to you
Like a childhood classmate you don’t
Remember but recognize anyway.
LED billboards jangle the night
Into a kind of hyperactive silence
On the edge of the city.
Maybe you don’t know where
You are going or when
You will leave.
This is my home of all time
And until I die and still
I don’t know where I’m going either.
Your voice helps me remember
What it means to be on a journey,
To travel with open kindness,
And struggle to be sure—
As if we could ever be—
About the accuracy of our map.
I sat on the porch with my phone
In the heavy September night,
Talking to someone not met,
And the next day,
You programmed your car to find me.
You think you are lost
But nothing is ever lost
When you are in it.
No one is ever lost
When he questions
The directions he’s given.
–Shaun Perkins
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 
That is haunting for me. I like the way the elemental-ness of it pulls me in. And, I feel the Okness in being where you are and finding it perfect without having to know where you’re map will take you. It feels like one of my favorite themes.
“be here now”. Very nice Shaun
Yes, the OKness….that’s what I was striving for. Thanks so much for naming it!
super great !
one of your best !