All the things that could have gone wrong
went wrong
All the things he thought hed
surely do
he didnt
All the angst he couldnt
imagine existed
did
All the lefts he took
should have gone right
And when he went right
he
should have gone left
He should have braked
rather than gone on
And when he sped away
he
should have stopped
as
if coldcocked
all too familiar
a broken record
spinning around and around and around and
tossing
everything from its face that wasnt nailed down
and yet he remained unbroken unbridled
confident
it was only a matter of time before things came to their senses and finally
caught
up with him to play in sync
he didnt do things the hard way
he did them their
hardest way
if it wasnt strenuous it wasnt
worth doing
he was from the School of Hard Knocks
the foundry where he was
smelted poured and tempered
a dense cruddy
ingot comfortably going through things rather than around them . . .
.
. . rather than around them - THERE!
- in a nutshell! -
in
the folded nutmeat cloistered in the hard nut of his skull
he was comfortable going through things
rather than around them
willfully
preferring confrontation to the strategy
perhaps artfully of turning his
cheek
he preferred Didions
hardscrabble:
“A place belongs forever to
whomever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively”
odd
some obsessions
1211, Thursday,
10 4. 14
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