We'll Always Have Acapulco

Some weeks ago, for some reason I don't quite understand, I found myself staying up until midnight writing some ridiculous poem about not going to Acapulco.

I've misplaced it, or I would replicate it here, but it was the kind of thing one writes when one is over-tired and should be sleeping. It's also the sort of thing you end up looking at the next day and thinking:

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

The title of the poem was We'll Always Have Acapulco, and the body of it was some bizarre nonsense along the lines of:

We never made it to Acapulco
Because we never planned to go...

And, quite frankly, it all got weird from there. I've always been a fan of poets like Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll, who had a lovely talent for complete nonsense, but I'm sure they at least "got" their own poems.

I think it was something about regretting the things you didn't do, or not regretting the things you didn't do, or something like that. Not having regrets because you didn't do something you might have regretted? Whatever.

All I know is that I distinctly remember writing it, and it's in my handwriting, but when I looked at it later I had a bit of a "What the...?" moment.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason I've never been drunk.

Well, that, and the fact that when I'm perfectly sober I think riding a unicycle is a good idea...