The point guard
not laughing it up
with his teammates
at a contrived table for twelve
looks through a girl
and out a window
to the lone cloud
in the bluest sky.
He ignores
his green chile cheeseburger
while his eyes trace
the Sandia ridge
and his mind formulates
how to get up there.
It is impossible to say
why he is not engaged
with the victory celebration
of a basketball game
that propelled his team
to the state finals
and, for a change,
I invent no Maybes.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Every moment of the day
I have the opportunity
of dying.
I know this from all manner of accidents
that have taken friends away
in the prime of their lives.
And so it is when a tree snake
swallows an egg whole
from a bird nest.
How do we find the courage
to drive the hectic traffic
at rush hour?
How do we find the pluck
to walk the rocky edge
of Sandia Crest?
Certainly not by calculating the odds
on spreadsheets
with arcane algebraic formulas.
Mostly by not thinking about it,
I think—just like I don’t think
about loving you. I just do.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 