Nowhere

By the side of the road
You unfold your flat earth
And consult it for directions.

Little round towns are threaded
Yellow on a red road
Winding round the numbered mountains.

But here, there is no
Golf course
Rest area
Scenic view
Historic place
Or motor camp:

Look up. Perfect summer blue
Shows between the leaves
Of a spreading puriri
Old as the hills.

Look down. Through the dry grass
The black ants crackle.
They’ve found your biscuits.

According to the AA
You are nowhere.

Now you know.