Runaway Sonnet

It’s hard to imagine what might happen
And harder still to write about what did.
What won’t ever happen’s the easiest

Pattern to contemplate, especially
For pre-existing patterns like common
Phrases linked in roughly familiar ways.

Once a boy found that he had put himself
On a one-way train without a notion
Of what to do once at the other end.

If he had been beautiful and able,
He might have ended up selling himself.
Purely homely helplessness returned him.

We know what we don’t have in us to say,
And so we end up writing what we know.