Learning to See
I have these memories of driving down Cuba Road
A little drunk and a lot stoned
The curves too close
The road too dark
Exhilarated
Scared
Not sure how I got there
Not sure of my way home
The map, though,
The map says I'm a liar.
The map says Cuba Road is straight.
Says Cuba Road is short
Simple.
The map says I was never far from home.
The map says I would have known that
Had I bothered to look.
Today
Today I'm lost again
The curves too close
The road too dark
Turns taking me to a lost
Where home is obscured
By my own inability to see
When I find the map,
It will say I'm a liar.
It will say the road was straight
Short
Simple.
The map will say I was never far from home.
The map will say I would have known that
Had I bothered to look.
But the map is wrong.
The map has always been wrong.
The road is dark
The curves are close
The way home is obscured.
And as I search for the map
That will tell me where I am,
How to find my way,
How to see,
I wonder
If I am not better off
Without it.