i'd take out the heavy
atlas
map
from the trunk.
a book that weighed
twenty pounds,
at least.
i'd find the address
in the grids,
the numbered
pages,
like a bombardier
over Germany
during
one war or the other.
somehow
i'd find my way
with the dome light on.
squinting at the small
print on
the page.
checking my watch,
my coordinates,
then
off, ready to launch.
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