Navigatrice

The Navigatrice
Is tiny
But do not for a second
Underestimate her

I follow her
When I can keep up
Swearing under my breath and

While I thrash through cobwebs
She lilts through memories

And gingerly points out
Ideas
Like Vanna White
Smilingly illuminating clues

I resent on occasion
The uneasy footing

Finally
With wobbly legs and
Soreness in my voice
I ask, "Where am I
Going?"

Her eyes slide across the horizon
Then she points
At my chest
On the left side
Below my collar bone
And says,

"There."