Vessel

Kyle doesn't realize it,

but he has a large unruptured

brain aneurysm.

Every now and then,

he gets a bad headache

just behind his eyes,

but otherwise,

he imagines he's in good health

for his forty-four years.

He tries to eat whole grains

and avoids processed meats.

He doesn't enjoy lifting weights

or running on treadmills,

but he likes walks outside

with his dog,

weather permitting.

And everywhere Kyle goes,

and during everything he does,

his aneurysm could burst,

and he could die instantly.

He could die

driving to work

with the morning sun in his eyes.

He could die

standing in line for the express lane

at the grocery store.

He could die during

a long conference call

with the sales guys in San Francisco.

He could die watching

pornography by himself

on his living room couch

late at night.

(That would be embarrassing.)

But Kyle’s okay right now.

He’s looking at Panera’s online menu

trying to figure out what to order.

He’s got a date this coming Saturday

and doesn’t know what to wear.

His dog is whining to go out,

and Kyle will agree,

even though his death sentence

bulges deep within his brain,

even though it’s about to rain.