I think of us and how my mind
puts us so easily in peril.
It’s like we’re in some
silly horror film, an old-fashioned
cinematic showcase for intense
three-act disasters.
I tell myself these are the things
that are likely to happen
and these are the things
that are not,
yet my mind rides its fast car
toward a faint sunset filled
with evil maniacs and hideous demons.
Their servings of menace and mayhem
are epic when what I desire
is something smaller in scale,
generous when what I wish for
is a more fortunate ounce of greed.
I stop and park the car in a dark garage
that may swiftly collapse
after I cough into my fist,
very likely a sign of something gone awry,
because I am held together so delicately
like a dandelion held in a child’s hand
or a clean house on a stormy day
when…