I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
Monday, 15 March 2010
I confess, I can't remember who wrote this, and my internet search failed me. I think I know, but I'd rather not risk ascribing it to the wrong poet. If you know, please tell me in the comments, and I'll give credit where credit is due, because I love these words, images, rhythms.