There is a place with many avenues
No streets though,
Plenty of streams,
There was a place where the avenues turned into streets but that became too unnerving
Compasses favored less confusion
Then there was you
You knew of many streets but always constructed avenues in your head
Even as a small child; an ode to your elusive and brilliant mind
Is all you know; though sometimes you secretly dream of streets to humor yourself
There was a place, there was a time;
There was you and there was me,
Then there was us.
Spanish streets and Mediterranean terrains appeared.
More streets. No avenues. Nothing special; nothing finite.
It just was.
Our lives and our love,
Of supreme importance.