missing out

I never really listened to the Beatles much at all.
I still don't lest I'm baked with nothing to do
and I guess that's just what happened. On Canada day, of all days
why did I choose to stay in?
I blame the music and the crazy effect it can have on a person
in times of up n' down.
On this particular occasion, the suspect is "Dear Prudence."
Do you see the irony?
It took me a while.
Still doesn't explain why I wasn't getting hammed up somewhere.
I stood up for a back stretch and realized I was still in my work clothes
writing this.
My hands, speckled with paint and dirt and half-healed cuts.
I come up with lines like that last one and it feels like
there's another character speaking out from inside me
and he's a better poet.
I've tried poetry before but I tried too hard.
Truth is
tonight I figured out what a writer is...
When you sit down to write and everything hits at once
and you know that you'd be missing out on something
if you went out.
So you stayed in.
And a greater gift than karma prevailed.