A Land Without Signs
Lost in a land without signs.
How it would be if I were blind.
No ‘do this,’ ‘do that,’ or whatever.
I don’t know if this is better.
Advertizing is out the door.
For that, I’m happy to the core.
No road signs or mileage signs either.
Bad news if I get cabin fever.
No sign to keep off the grass.
Someone yelled “Move your ass.”
No warning signs of danger.
Walk carefully, if a stranger.
No buildings with names on them.
Embarrassing, walking into a girls gym.
Where’s the bathroom? I got to go.
Without a sign, I’ll be quite a show.
No stop signs. Drive with care.
No signs that say BEWARE!!
I don’t think I like this place.
I’ll take signs, whatever it takes.
A cop tapped me on the shoulder.
Woke me up, without being bolder.
The sign said no loitering or sleeping.
He waves me on, the park bench creaking.
I was back, as I kissed the sign.
The cop just shrugged. He didn’t mind.
————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2017)