If she can do it, I can do it
if I buy it, try it, I’ll be it.
Like the model on the advert:
young and lithe. No anxiety.
I might be the one in two,
the one in four, or the one in ten,
or I might live on horrendously,
to a grand old, sightless immobility.
Tomorrow I could read a book,
forsake my nook,
become a warrior and look
at life from a different epoch.
Red Wizard Café
Red is showing a customer how to use
Ebay. They sit next to the guppy tank
poking index fingers at Red’s iPad.
Two tourists step across the threshold.
They see a campanologists’ boot camp flyer
and back out.
Nothing stops the man with a white carrier bag.
He strides over to Red with the future
in his hand. Pulling out a length of tube slathered
with gaffer-tape he fixes the end with goggles
over a volunteer’s eyes and shoves
the camera end into a croaking tetra tank
then announces It’s only a prototype.
Strictly one-paced, these days.
Comfortable with the present Waltz,
supporting each other, legs barely moving,
But what if the music changes?
Tango, Rumba, Cha-Cha, Paso Doble?
Could we summon up the necessary passion?
Probably could manage an American Smooth,
possibly a (rather slow) Quick Step,
but a Jive would leave us dance-floored.
What happens when the music stops?
Knock-on: You can predict everything but the future. (Events, dear boy, events!) Who knows what may happen in the next moment? Here’s a WW1 poem by Ivor Gurney in which three alternative fates are considered:
What are your voices telling you?