I should have been a masseuse,
Giddy at the joy of ripping into a new spine each session,
Fingers all eight like teams of surgeons correcting postures
Held at ransom to the worlds terrors,
Thumbs all a kibble searching endlessly for holes, relief and pleasures
Lying forgotten in the knots and wounds of each poor soul
Who instructs me for their wares.
Instead, I just thought about it.

I should have been a musician,
Giddy at the joy of ringing virtues out in chords and chimes,
Beating hearts and feet with my drums and bells,
Belting verse/chorus/verse praising and dismissing
The opportunity to be alive,
Placing reels of tape into the record of thoughts that
Deserve a place in history for their humble praise of humility…
Instead, I just thought about it.

I should have been a monk,
Giddy at the joy of spending hour upon hour praising the universe,
Blessing each thought and word and action towards things larger than myself
Quietly ignoring the potency of satisfaction from material pleasures,
Dedicating a life towards something greater than myself,
Writing endlessly towards the benefit of the world…
Instead, I just thought about it.

I should have been an actor,
Giddy at the joy of soothing myself piece by piece into another existence,
Ready at the slightest command to become at the moment required,
To live by the second and produce with immediacy a Foreign God,
A saber-toothed tiger, an ancient peasant or something not yet imagined…
Instead, I just thought about it.

I wanted to be all of them and more,
Giddy at the joy of knowing that I could be,
Untainted by the achievements of the greatest,
Disconcerted by the imagined greatness of the skeptics,
Undaunted by the tasks yet to be achieved…
Instead of worrying about it,
I just did it.