Things I Don't Know How to Do

I don’t know how to bake a clam or make a cake from scratch.
I don’t know how to assemble Tranformers with speed and accuracy.
I don’t know how to drive a stick shift or stick to a topic.
I don’t know how to watch movies without falling asleep or fall asleep without dramas racing through my head.
I don’t know how to French braid or twist pretzels like an Amish girl,
But I do know how to make a tangled mess of things.

I don’t know how to fire a gun or build a fire in my living room,
or my heart for that matter.
I don’t know how to do a front roll dismount or
Get myself out of these tasks that spin me
Endlessly.
I don’t know how to tie knots in rope:
Only in myself.
I don’t know how to water ski or balance on a beam,
Or pet dogs and horses without cringing.

I don’t know how to juggle bowling pins or torches or the myriad tasks
that each day brings.
I don’t know how to run without being chased or
Catch up to the moments in my life that I should cling to.

And I don’t know how to live without spaghettio kisses and crumbs in my bed from
The midnight snack that chased the monsters away.