Americo

Americo

I know exactly

where he is tonight

by candlelight

in a small apartment

in Lincoln, NE the hot

needle

in his hand

injecting the ink

into his skin

he maps his

body, an explorer

of sorts

a cartographer

a Columbus a Vespucci

I fear

he may be lost

at sea

I will show you

in my glove box atlas where I last

saw him,

where you might

find him

if he has not yet

gone down

but beware: he is

charting

unmarked waters, black

as India ink