Potholes (Yes, Paul)

I ain't goin' down that road again.
There are potholes aplenty
down which a man can fall.
Sinkholes for the unwary.
A concealed entrance to the underworld.

A man can try to prepare himself:
invest in all-terrain vests,
non-chafing pants, stout boots,
moisture-wicking coverings for one's foots,
a pleasingly toothsome array
of Kendal Mint Cakery
and - perhaps - some kind of contraption
for recycling one's urine.

But man is never truly ready to face
the ultimate wilderness.

When God goes all Paul Daniels
and pulls the rug out from under you
and your horizontal world
is tipped on its side
and slides off into space.

The outside is a scary place.

Fancy a walk?
Say "Yes, Paul"
he says.

B.R. 16/04/2020

My companion in isolation while I wrote this poem ~
the redoubtable Trixie.
Photo by B.R.