Thinking more about paths that I might have taken…. One was a writing trip to Bulgaria. I didn’t go~ for a variety of reasons. That’s the thing about paths not taken. There is always a complex variety of reasons for choosing one over the other (yet we still talk of destiny and fate, how does that fit in?). A million synapses that add up to say, let’s go this way instead….
[It’s like those “choose your own adventure books” although in those I always cheated and left my hand in place to quickly rescind any poor decision].
To you in Bulgaria
Write for me,
oh you in the land of roses
across the great ocean and in the sun.
Write for me,
oh you sedulous student of words,
Write for me,
who stands in high heels dug in
by a bricolage of complex inhibitions—
But wait,
maybe there is next year
in London! A revenant carrying roses,
I come back to you.
I see us then
under the great wheel,
drunk on the ale of white space and
cheering the accomplishments of
26 characters speaking in accents.
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