I don’t tell stories well but would like to

from this week in May, 2007  (I was 62)

I don’t tell stories well but would like to

I either meander around the shrubbery

or blow the plot with immediate revelation

of anything relevant with nothing left to tell

I’m not keen enough observing details

of mechanical workings to teach the reader

the mechanism while showing how it works

Too impatient to know too eager to tell

And it takes me a long time to read

the life of another’s seamless fabrication

I inevitably ride some implication

right off the page in a reverie

that reveals the author’s genius

and forces me to pull the beast back on path