Image: © H.S.
Author: H.S.
What can you choose? That is a question.
Here’s another: “What can you choose really?”
The subject of today is choice, which raises a question:
“What are some of the things you can choose?”
Birds can fly. Crows are birds, and so are doves.
Birds can choose to fly.
They can choose to fly in the day. They can choose to fly in the night.
Since crows and doves are birds, they can choose to fly in the day or in the night.
But you and I are not birds. But we can dream about them. I can. You can. You can choose to dream about being a bird (a crow or a dove) and whether you fly in the day or in the night.
There are many other things you can choose.
You can choose your height. You can choose to reach the upper shelf with your height. And if you outstretch your fingers, even higher.
You can choose your homeland. My point of origin is the sky when heaven is blue. And the sun when the sky is red. You can choose your motherland, and also your mother tongue. I chose to write “Things you can choose.” instead of “Brrrrt – tktktktktk pah!” which would be closer to what is happening in my mind.
All these words are fictional, but they are fun nonetheless.
You can choose your number of teeth.
That you can choose.
Making your face looking like your face.
You can choose.
Being bullied in school,
having ADHD,
growing up a boy,
That you can choose.
Being a boy or a girl.
That you can choose.
The shape of your sexual organs.
That you can choose.
You can choose the shape, the scent (or stench) it has, if it is bitter or sweet to the tongue.
You can choose how the veins slithers down the shaft, how hard it is when erect.
You can choose how moist it gets when wet, the aperture of the lips, is it more cauliflower or tangerine shaped?
All that you can choose.
Falling in love.
That you can choose.
You may ponder about choice, but in a poem about choice & being a boy & being a bird, my words bring me to love.
You can choose to fall in love.
Falling in Love with a Franco-American girl who grew in Cannes doing ballet school.
You can choose.
Breaking up with her.
You can choose.
Her breaking up with you.
That you can also choose.
One last thing:
Whether the rock reaches the bottom of the pond when you throw it in.
You can choose.
In a poem about choice my words take me to the colors of the sky, to birds, to sex, to love.
Those words were fun, but they were fictional.
Still, it is enthralling to think about the things you can choose.