why i am not married

Sometimes falling is

not at all what they say it is. The survivors always leave

the vital information out --- the after-blood;

the foot out the door,

even at the onset. It starts with a common

choice, between this and the

other less enviable option of cooking dinners alone

and going stag on parties. You never saw

it coming, you say, that afternoon when

a friend called you up, reassuring you that it's just a

short trip. They thought the fresh air

would do you good. You have been lying about

your loneliness for a while now; oh, how

fun an empty house is, you said. While packing,

you remember promising yourself that

you'll come back intact --- arms, ears,

your mistreated esophagus

all in one place. From your vantage

point in the backseat, everything

still seems safe. Amy and Lita are playing

crosswords, everyone else

laughing at the joke about fish and bicycles.

In fact, just sitting there, the road

moving below you, you were happy. You did not

know this then, for you took journeys

at face value, but you will admit to the

feeling while picking up your

laundry -- one night years later -- a

bag containing, always, one of everything.

Once you reach your destination,

it is every man for himself. Your

friends are disappearing, hurtling

their bodies down that secular abyss. You finger

the tight rope that would connect

you to the place you'll be leaving, thinking

about that time when you were 10

and fascinated with old man Roger, who died

scaling the largest building uptown.

You did not know Roger, did not know that

he had three kids who never

travelled far after that day. But this

is you, you are different.

You do things with eyes closed, your

body not just a body now because it is moving

faster than it ever has. You

feel the rope failing you. The survivors

are at the foot of the hill;

they scream that they are tasting stars.

At the last minute, you try to

see if it is true. What meets your eye

is that body before you,

yours, falling again and again, against its chosen hour.