It's like a different map,
where instead of yellow
being lemon-flavored
it tastes like
fresh cherries instead.
it's a different road,
the longest path between two points,
a curved
well-painted path
that's all worn away
at the edges
There's no point wishing for a map
the same as everyone else's
where blue
is blue raspberry
or black is
licorice.
because there is something scary about
a new map
about a generic map,
a feeling that north
isn't really north,
but some other direction
masquerading
in north's costume,
a blurred spot
on the compass rose
a feeling of emptiness
because before you had
too much,
but now you have
none.
a feeling of not knowing
of being alone in the cold.
and we would rather pay
for the extra gas
and guess at tastes
than be alone
in the cold
with the wrong map.