1. I cannot play guitar and harmonica at the same time.

I asked my grandparents for a harmonica holder for Christmas

(even though it looks like some torturous dental contraption)

And I waited weeks and weeks

For the day I could finally fulfill my dream of being Bob Dylan.

And Christmas came

And I found that simultaneously plucking strings and blowing in and out

Was harder than I assumed it would be

And I spent a few moments cursing my motor functions,

And I haven’t picked up either instrument in two days.

Do I contradict myself?

2. Because I also cannot bike up the Brooklyn Bridge without getting red in the face.

I’ve biked through the highlands of Colorado

(where the sky is so busy being beautiful that it forgets to be breathable)

And I’ve climbed mountains that rose at a 50-degree angle

And I’ve jumped off cliffs into wine-dark waters

With only a wild blueberry or two to sustain me

But I cannot and have never biked up the Brooklyn Bridge without getting red in the face.

But I keep doing it

And I keep telling myself

“Every time it gets easier,

But the view from the top is just as beautiful.”

And I try to move through life with that thought in mind

Even at times when the sunrise doesn’t seem like a sufficient reason to get up

Or when I feel like a placeholder for someone who could accomplish bigger and better

Or when I curse my motor functions and cannot be Bob Dylan.

Very well then, I contradict myself.

3. Because I know that I cannot leave any puzzle unsolved

And I cannot believe that I forgot to put “YET” at the end of this poem’s title

Because my bookshelves are stacked with crosswords that I will finish one day

And the world is filled with people that I hope to help one day

And my heart is overflowing with conversations that I am going to have one day

But for now, at the foot of my bed sits my guitar and my new harmonica holder,

And I am going to pick them up right now.

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)