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And it occurred to me for one uneasy moment
that every move I had made lately might have
started a landslide.
What if I couldn’t go back? What if I died in the crash?
Almost immediately, the monster soothed
me, confused me with a deeper question.
What if the ride was worth it?
I mean, who wants to trudge through life, doing
everything just right? Taking no chances means
wasting your dreams.
How can I explain the pure chilling rush of
waiting to do something so basically not right?
No fear. No guilt.
How can I explain purposely setting foot on
a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the
fun in the fall?
I Hoped Not
As I softly opened my second-floor window,
peered down at the cement walk below, took a deep breath.
Fingers clutching the upper sill, toes stretching
for the first-floor trim, I managed to touch down
safely. It may have been the safest moment
of the night, in fact. Gulped into darkness,
I let my eyes adjust, felt the breeze lift
goosebumps, listened for signs of household disturbance.
No motion. No sudden snitch of a light switch.
No sound but distant coyote song, I silenced
my conscience, quieted my screaming nerves
and slipped away unnoticed, for the moment.
No streetlights, no headlights, the world
