Walt Disney World on my iPhone

The park map used to be shoved in a back pocket,

slick flap of wrong folding I'd surrendered to.

Something to fight over with little brother

since he'd left his on the train. It was shade for the stroller,

a wrinkled souvenir. But now my phone holds

these little rides that always start on time,

and when it sleeps I trace my finger trails:

here's where I was, over there's where I want to be.