Lookout

From the thumb upwards
I am angled towards the wind.
It is a head wind of great strength.
But I am ready and able to bend into it.
I am making progress.
My optimism will carry me on.
I intend to quench my thirst for life
From the ever full glass of eternity.
My share I take with a pinch
Of a worm, squeezed lemon and salt.
Forgive me, this is not Mexico,
I forget myself.
You must understand
I have a backstory
Of vast imaginings.
I am though here
By chance.
It is natural
Having lived this while
To have gathered not only baggage,
And momentum but also a degree of self cynicism.
There are after all no limits to experiences.
The craft of survival is learned.
Let no one convince you otherwise.
I have lived a pigeons life,
In Greece I traveled for a while
In a horse.
How the sound of hoof on cobble
Rattled my drums.
So having decided on
No more of the equine mode,
I vowed to travel to Athens
Wearing skirts.
Thus incognito
I passed unnoticed by the Greeks.
Today I venture
To write a memoir.
Tomorrow?
Well let's just see.

To beer continued...

©2019 Chris Thompson.    "lookout" is a subset series