Happens when you least expect it.
The distracted driver blabbing on his phone
sails through a stop sign as you cross the street.
Your life ends in a heartbeat.
Chest pains, almost always due to the pickled herring
you love to eat, can sometimes be the ghostly voice
of the widow-maker and not just the belch of Gurd.
Even when you’re not doing anything special
on a routine Tuesday—tectonic plates shift under your feet,
open wide, and swallow you up hook, line and sinker.
It only takes a second to turn your life upside down.
We’re here until we’re one second away
from not being here—no different than any combat soldier
who waits for the bullet with his name on it.