It was all just one mistake
after another,
that led us to this place.
No map,
no compass.
No circumscribe
around the edge
and then
down;
into it.
No,
we just
struck to the heart.
By fate,
or fortune,
folly became virtue,
or perhaps,
this is a tragedy after all.
Falling in love
is never
a calculation;
it’s an accident,
a twist of cruel fate.
Like going out for groceries
and discovering oblivion;
wandering into a black hole,
instead of the produce section,
and we fall for it
almost every time.
I’m not sure if it’s the first
mistake we make,
but it surely is the second,
or the third,
or the fourth.
The chain of misfortunes
that find us falling in love
are catastrophic.
Like getting sucked into a black hole
results in…
…what do they call it?
Ah,
“Spaghettification”.
When our feet
reach the speed of light
before our head does.
We eventually fall
head over heels
into that infinitely dense singularity,
and then we’re fucked.
There’s no getting out.
The next mistake is lurking,
hanging about in the shadows.
Waiting for that moment
when we try to move,
or speak,
or think
and then it’s on us.
Catching us about the knees
and wrestling us to the ground
and even out best efforts
can’t keep us from being smothered in it.
Obsession, infatuation, yearning.
Oh, the heart is a horrible traitor;
giving the mind fits,
as good sense leaves us
and the next mistake
is followed
by the next mistake
and we wouldn’t change a thing,
as the ill circumstances pile up
and all we can hope for now
is to grow old together.
A lifetime of decisions
that never were;
not really.
Just mistake,
after mistake,
after mistake
and I wouldn’t change a thing.
HG – 2017
