Wide as imagination
this moment of living.
Think of it as a twisting
road edging the glory
of a mountain river
in spring, charging
ahead, melt full, singing
just for you. Unless,
of course, you’re
lying bullet-riddled
dead on a howling
plain of war, sobbing
debt sunk in the bath-
room of a foreclosed
shack or being dragged
out of your car by the
hard hands of a glee-
fully merciless cop.
Then it’s as narrow
as a burning fuse
this moment of living.