As if life were poetic.

She liked to think it was.
But life was not a poem
Only in retrospect

When it could be molded
the perfect words found
a rythm discovered

Life as it is lived
is sudden and messy
it is tripping into a manhole
and having your teeth knocked out

It is standing in the doorway
the first day of first grade
ridiculously aware
of how oblivious you have been

It is a rollercoaster
without the bar to hold you down
and sometimes
the tracks are missing

and sometimes
you rebuild them
yourself.

Life is too fast
and too slow
and too uncertain

to be poetic
until for one moment you stop
look back

and see how all the
manholes
and doorways
and rollercoasters

have gotten you where you are.

and the fact
that we can make all of that
into poetry

is a beautiful thing
inspiring the beginning
of yet another

poem.