I only make things I like
I only make things I like, she said
As if life was as simple as that.
As if we could choose, cleanly
What we liked and disliked.
I only make things I like. I nodded.
You have to admire a woman like that,
Who knows what she likes,
Is firm in her conviction.
I wonder, though, if that really
Is the way to happiness? What about
Serendipity? The chance finding
Of a flavour? Hearing a tune
On a random station, wafting
From a car radio? Finding yourself
In an unknown park, where
Cherry blossoms float like feathers?
Tasting a different drink, in a different bar,
Kissing a stranger, taking the wrong bus
To the wrong place, but finding something
That you didn’t know
And loving it anyway.