One reason I like to read mystery and suspense novels because they are structured to come to a resolution. It’s very satisfying. Loose ends not permitted! Life is not like that, is it?
I live quite differently than my reading tastes might predict – loose ends are the real mysteries of life, something to accept and embrace. I don’t tend to think a lot about the past or the future. I have lots of memories and lots of plans, but they are mental pathways I visit, not places I live. Pretty much every day starts things over for me. I am glad for this, since it means I am usually dealing with a manageable amount of life – just today.
So that’s where this poem comes from, I think.
On the Road
Plain and simple
I took to the road
a long time ago
and never bothered to stop
Never wanted to. Never could.
Exact dates and times?
Of course I don’t know.
I’ve got a lot of material here
but no story. For it to be a story
don’t you need a plot?
No, things went like things go
first you do one thing
and then you do another
and then some third thing
it just all goes along
and it seems fine to you
But next thing you know
someone is asking
someone wants it all to make sense
and you feel you ought to try, maybe
you twist your thoughts around
this way or that way
see if you can’t arrange things better
pieces are sticking out and you need to push them back in
sew up the holes but the fabric’s still full of snags
the thread of the thing is snarled up and the needle lost
and it’s all just a waste of time
you get sick of it and throw it on the ground
and walk away
like you wanted to do in the first place
and you did
and you were perfectly happy doing
I assure you
the time’s gone by and
I never did look at a map
I wasn’t working out any patterns.
Didn’t bother me a bit.
Is it so important?
I know you think so.
Me, I’m just travelling.