Where I grew up
roads ran strictly
north and south,
east and west.
Houses had cardinal directions.
I don’t live there anymore.
After twenty years
in this same house,
I walked out this morning
wondering why, here,
the sun rises in the northwest.

Where I grew up
boys dated girls
men married women.
Sex had cardinal directions.
I don’t live there anymore.
After sixty years
in this same flesh,
I walk into a man’s arms
still surprised that, here,
desire rises in the right direction.