Originally posted 9/9/2014.
Crashing a motorcycle through a window twenty stories up,
plummeting to the ground below — that’s the way to go;
so much implied backstory, so much obvious preparation.
Strangers unable to mourn such a whacked-out demise
would nonetheless be talking about it for days,
and those who loved the Rider
would wonder in their sorrow if indeed this was the best way
to go, if this was indeed the obvious final arc
for someone following their bliss to its logical conclusion.
Every death by diving from on high
makes at least one person wonder:
what if they had landed on someone?
Someone else always wonders,
what if they had found themselves able to fly?
Would they have changed their mind?
Imagine putting in all that work toward dying
only to learn that you won’t die that way.
Imagine watching the bike fall away from under you
as you rise, hover, begin to consider your options,
begin to imagine what those options
could possibly be.
Dark Matter 