Week 1 chat and predictions

[Split]

dew or frost
you were lost, and so were we,
between the stops, we'd hurry, pause
to steam the glass and breathe and cough.
fog that shrouded text of signs/ plaques of addresses
like magnetic tape on wound casettes,
fountain pens forgot, a different age like
Maps and Atlases on round discs compact,
now in slabs thinner than pens and pads...
boxed and packed in lofts, in stacks
like those we dropped on the newest tech.
you'd soon regret not feeling lost, cruising paths
with the GPS set for where I'm not,
because so am I, feeling lost
so late at night before the dew or frost