I asked, "Why are you gluing shards back into pottery?
He said, "Because fuck entropy, that's why!"
I didn't have the heart to tell him entropy was alive and well, given the energy he was devoting to the task.
But he was like that.
If you asked, "Why do you want to go riding in a hot-air balloon?"
He'd say, "'Cause, fuck gravity, that's why!"
He didn't like that there was a set of rules that he wasn't free to ignore -
regardless of whether he had any inclination not to comply, otherwise -
Maybe it wasn't him.
Maybe, it's the defining characteristic of being human:
being pissed off that there are things that aren't at all under one's control.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
