When it gets cold
we don’t know how to put the gloves on
wearing only jeans on the coldest days of the Winter
we slosh in the slush in our sneakers
Our woolly hats are rooted in the hat rack
we bless quietly, the one that invented hoods
and curse loudly
those who got the idea to buy Italian trains to use in Finland
(You fucking idiots!)
We keep the wool socks on until
our little toes need to be amputated
like in the Summer: sun screen comes to play
on the same day as our melanoma diagnosis.
We learned how to swim and to be sober
when we drowned on the Midsummer Day
and although it is wise
not to a drive a car when drunk or on drugs
every one of us had to
during the night between Friday and Saturday,
on the way home from a bar,
first drive over a cousin before we learned to how call a taxi.
(But like, they was a fucker anyways so it didn’t matter that much)
Not before we got ran over on a cottage road
and got paralyzed from the neck down
did we use bicycle reflectors,
nowadays we don’t even need to worry about birth control.
(But who cares about having sex anyways anymore? )
Not taking the tetanus vaccine was a good way
to oppose supranational pharmaceutical companies
until while working in the garden
grandpa’s old shovel bounced from a stone to the back of the foot,
at the same time we understood
why our babies got meningitis
(But they were a bunch of really irritating snotnoses, so uh,
I didn’t feel like watching after them anymore so
it was, like, a deliberate choice, long-term planning)
Even though everyone always said
don’t play with fire
we didn’t know how to stop before
the whole world was burning
And even though everyone always said
don’t ask for help without a reason
we didn’t know how to help
even when there was one
And even though
our conscience knocked on the door
threatened to come through it
we just watched it from the spyholes
hoping
It would think we aren’t there
(And no, we aren’t)