No Regrets

----a foreword----
I've not done enough to have many regrets, I only really have the one.  And I never like thinking about it.  This poem is a tribute to a wall and a fresh manouevre I've been building for some years, now.  Most people were ignorant when they were young.  So was I.  But not in that way.
-----------------------

No regrets.
Perhaps

But I wish I knew then what I do now.
That old bastard.
Use it as you will.
Three years a'now I was empuddled
In an estuary of greasy, dysfunctioning oil
Which slowed me down to a grind
And clogged me up with an oblivious head
Smeared my windows
Though it oiled my doors.
I just never walked out
Despite having the keys.

It took me a big hammer to smash it;
The rose-tinted glass.
My ignorance quivered when I became aware
That cruelty is reflexive
Harshness is a given ticket-turnstile
And you must leap, or leave behind
I was slow.
I did neither.
I paid my fare.

I am the slowest grower.
I lack the glory days;
The long hot summers;
The heartache, the trauma
The police records and pregnancy scares
I suppose I should've had,
But never wanted.

It's taken me calendars to reach the motorway
While confirming and conforming,
Dissenting and obeying;
I didn't waste my life
Enough.

No.
No regrets.
I'm here now.
And from here on in,
Get out of the way.