a phone poem

Sometimes, I walk through Edinburgh, running errands and typing poems on my phone.
I just read through a few of them and thought I’d share this one:

You’re going to be an artist,
which means
you’re always going to be just a little

You’re going to stare at babies
not because you want one
but because they’re cute

You’re going to wear a sock, a jumper or jewelry
that doesn’t match
except in a way that makes sense to you

And, you’re going to practise instruments, computer skills, painting, drawing, dancing
but look like you haven’t

You’re going to forget your toothbrush,
your shoes, or
the film or book your friend just handed to you to borrow
at your friend’s flat
or the cafe where you were writing

And get lost
because you were thinking of a project
far more important
than your location
or who you were hoping to meet
at the art preview or gig
you were walking to

When you stayed out late
dulling your senses with drinks, lack of sleep
and conversations
about what it means
to create
and be creative

But you’ll never figure it out

Good for you!
You don’t have to understand it
to keep going.