Lost

Lost.
I love that word,
so often pushed
upon the young and the single—
the wayward population of misfits
who don’t settle, or won’t.
But I’m anchored, happily,
to a house and family
in the uneventful suburbs
with navigable roads
and a grocery store in sight.
I already know
the story of tomorrow.
There’s no uncertainty
about the love I come home to,
no deficit of laughter or funds—
still, there’s the awkward nudge
to make lost my destination—
to escape inexplicably
into the night
to get there.

DeMaris Gaunt
10-29-14

One thought on “Lost”

  1. “there’s the awkward nudge
    to make lost my destination—
    to escape inexplicably
    into the night
    to get there.”

    I often think the expression “I want to find myself,” is really a way of saying, “I want to become lost in a place other than this.” Your poem brought this back to my mind.

    Liked by 1 person

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