That you weren’t wired to expect.
Later, things get more routine.
Similar, familiar things
Happen again and again.
But, live through enough routine,
And you’ll get to live plenty
More unexpected events,
Great and small. Your awareness
Of awareness of living
Will tell itself foolish truths
About how you should expect
The unexpected. Indeed.
Your awareness is a sieve,
A little like the fine mesh
Of an archeologist,
A little like whale baleen,
But with more holes than either.
Shovel enough existence,
You’ll snag some toothsome oddments.
Memory will scoop them, piled
The way a child saves beach glass,
Left to imagination.
Don’t confuse experience
With wisdom. There’s no wisdom
Worth that odd experience.
Say nothing silly as this.
I thought I would die one day,
And then the next, and the next.
Now, I live like a dazed kid.
Yellow wildflowers, prickly pear,
Great clouds sailing in the heat.
There’s what’s expected of me,
And then there’s this kind of bliss.
I never expected this.