Саймон Армитидж. Дело не в том, что ты делаешь, а в том, что это делает с тобой

I have not bummed across America 
with only a dollar to spare,  one pair
of busted Levi's and a bowie knife. 
I have lived with thieves in Manchester. 

I have not padded through the Taj Mahal,
barefoot, listening to the space between 
each football picking up and putting down 
it's print against the marble floor.  But I 

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day
so still I could hear each set of ripples 
as they crossed.  I felt each stone's inertia 
spend itself against the water; then sink.

I have not toyed with a parachute cord
while perched on the lip of a light-aircraft;
but I held the wobbly head of a boy
at the day centre,  and strocked his fat hands. 

Answer I guess that the tightness in the throat 
and the tiny cascading sensation 
somewhere inside us are both part of that
sense of something else.  That feeling,  I mean.