I might be an otter
in my next life. Play,
play, eat, copulate,
sleep, repeat.  Turn
endlessly in clear water
and live otter-full. 

Or, in fact,
I might opt
to petrify.  Forget
the living, forget
the problems of individual cells. 
Unified! 

And if I could be pure
sunshine — give up on matter
entirely, disregard the wave or particle
debate in favor of warming things up —

ah.  Utility. 
I’m such an American
I need a job to explain myself.

Giving that up, too,
next time around.

My life at times
has been torrid enough
to force me to step back
beyond the light and heat it throws
and watch it burn,
sparks rising from it
like reverse confetti.

I gamble with myself:
how high
will the last one fly
before it blinks out?

More often than not
I lose these wagers.

When I do win,
I throw more fuel on the fire
while saying,
“Double or nothing.
Let’s go for it.”

It’s been a long run
of incredible fires,
empty pockets,
and talking to myself.

Well, I will build a bonfire tonight,
on this Thanksgiving night.
I’m going to build it solid
with hard woods that won’t blaze up
and disappear with the kindling.
When I light it, I won’t back away
but will let it scorch me
as I stare into the yellow-white
under the embers.
I will not look up to see
what is vanishing
above me into the overcast night sky.