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.
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