All the Things We Aren't Meant to Do

ALL THE THINGS WE AREN’T MEANT TO DO

The title is misleading.
I have no clue what we are
Or what we aren’t
Meant to do.

Bringing an alpaca
To a pub,
Driving a cow
In a car,
Ironing happily
Underwater,
Smashing caravans
On a race track,
Or recreating
The Obama inauguration
In Lego –
Perhaps it
Makes sense,
After all.

But when the other day
I swapped Montreal for
Havana, and in three hours
Flew out of icy deserts
Into spicy suns,
Tricking light angles
And planetary revolutions,
Sneering at the stately pace
Of time –

I knew I was an intruder,
A criminal,
A trespasser,
On the unleased territory
Which was never really
Part of the deal,
But was snatched through
Collective curiosity and
Impatience appeal.

So there I was,
Sitting on the plane,
Having no clue,
Doing something that
Probably the prophets
Huddled around that
First fire
Never thought
We would do.


For Alpaca in a Pub et al. click here