Free fall
This is free fall.
That is all.
We want speed,
Scream “faster”;
We, the privileged, need to stage
Danger.
Careening in cars, circling at carnivals,
We get dizzy-excited-and-a-little
But-not-too-too-scared
Illusion of danger
And we’ll have dinner
Later.
This is free fall.
The ground is hard.
Not an accident,
No parachute
That didn’t deploy.
No safety measures.
Not manufacturer error.
Blame the cliff
Steep/romantic.
Blame the wind, bumping into skin
Sliding past
Letting the body slip.
Blame gravity for clinginess
Pulling the body with enough force
To crush it.
That is all.
This is free fall.
The ground is hard.
No surprise ending.
The ground is there
Waiting.
(Does the ground wait for the
event, or is it just there, being?
Can anything just “be”?)
No time for philosophies,
No moment of prayer.
Just velocity, urgency,
And then non-being.
This is free fall.
The ground is hard.
That is all.