We are

waiting in Winslow wondering 

if the crossed wires

arcing across the way are metaphors

for miscommunication.

If when we said, “Left at the roundabout,”

as a desired direction

a pedestrian intention

not a strictly mechanical turning

of automobile's wheels

whose irrational ratio

of covered distance to perceived measure

goes on without repetition

If we had left them then, 

singular and preferred,

standing, idling

thinking about earlier words...

That if there are no lines there are no lines to cross.