7-2-91 What Are My Choices?


Each man who travels along this way
Fastened by commitment,distance and love
At one time feels his shoulders converge
With the contradiction of our lives
Running fast for so long
We look for balance in imbalance,
Home everywhere but home.

Our sirens called in different voices
Sweet sounds not of expectation
An answer for those not questioning
Consolation prize for others,yet
Here we find our families
Red headed stepchildren in foster care
Decisions made and printed for us
The rules few but cast of grey iron
Bars bent,drank at,played and shook.

The others look on in disbelief
“wow,it must be cool…”
“I could never do that…”
“What you must have seen…”
Our tired eyes have seen plenty
Of rented beds,old news
Mutant phone bills and post card stamps
Places shampoo should never go
Ask me where the McEmbassy is
The loading dock,nearest laundromat
It there a museum in this town?
…where are we?

It is not all indelicate windging
The priceless moments we have saved
For children,future ex-wives and unbelievers
How blessed we are to be alive
To enjoy what we do and complain about it

And still be able to do it again
The love we’ve shared among ourselves
New brothers,kid sisters and perverted uncles;

That the sun rises earlier in Oslo
And the feeling’s the same about 3pm
Wherever you are today;
The part of all of us that wants to be home
To be secure and loved;
That this life does not stop love
For our family and friends
Just takes us away for a lifetime or two.

Some of us do not quite fit
Back there,
That place that everyone else has
This reality is fine,thank you
Where childhoods denied live free and long
Just do your job and play all you want
As hard and as weird as you can
There’s a few of us that are watching you
Will pick you up,tell you it’s been done before
With a smile…
A sad smile.

White picket fence can’t keep us away
Beautiful babies who grow unseen
The One who anchors and glues our world
Cannot keep us at home today
The promise of ambrosia
Challenges four cities we have never seen
We who make the impossible happen
We who make the simple complicated
We who can’t remember what our homes look like
Without a tear and some serious thought.

And we do this of free will again and again
We are all part of this thing
When a punter comes up and says”I was there”
You can smile,remember and get the date wrong
I mean,what are you,an itinerary?