Preparing to Leave

I’ll need a name and

a map before

I can go.

The rest I can invent.

The name should be as

natural as an old scar, the map too,

at first, topographical, but

later political, historical if

I get lost, and it should fold

to fit unnoticed

inside any story I

might tell.

And when I board an airplane

or bus, or a van pulls over for

my outstretched thumb, I’ll need to

forget the faces of

where I’ve been, forget how

long I’ve been gone.