Why is it that
When you’re looking for
Something you tend to
Find everything else but
Not the oh that’s
Where that thing is
But rather yeah I
Definitely don’t want that
It’s as though someone
Said just try this
Knowing that it’s not
Going to taste or
Feel anything as promised
When young I believed
That I was chalk
Creating and discovering newness
At middle age I
Learned that I was
Erasers wiping away unnecessary
Ideas making room for
More upon retiring I
Discovered that I was
The blackboard upon which
Ideas dreams were written
And finally now I
Understand that I am
Just a classroom in
Which the lessons of
Life have been learned
I’m tired of hawking
Myself like a used
Car salesman hoping that
The promise of adventure
Overwhelms the scars of
Battles already fought the
Dings of blows landed
The rickitiness of a
Life already lived there’s
Something to be said
Of those things that
Have returned from war
We have seen things
And already been there
To places that no
One wishes to go
Yet no one cares
And off they go
All shiny and new
And if they’re lucky
Will find themselves here
One day like me
The world relies on
Would could or should
Thinly veiled words of
Wishes thoughts of maybes
And options and convenience
Ideas conjured from not
Quite good enoughs hitching
People to the back
Of horse’s rather than
Letting them ride too
There’s an unspoken hierarchy
A better than thou
A you’re lucky to
Get even this much
If you’re giving me
So little with a
Promise for more keep
What you have you
Need it for yourself
I’m fine over here
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 