Some Days

When I’m heading to work
and the distance is stretching out in front of me
I secretly hope to see
a nuclear blast
a ball of flame larger than the sun
burst on the horizon
strangely silent
and beautiful

And even though
I’m blinded by the flash
I can still see the wall of wind and fire
coming toward me
waiting to envelop me
like a warm blanket
when I’m shivering from a fever I can’t control

And I know it would be a horrible thing
but still
I can’t help but wish it were so
maybe it’s selfish
or maybe I know that everybody else is just like me
and everybody else would feel relieved
would know that the waiting’s over
and everything’s going to be alright
it’s all going to be OK
because everything’s been taken care of
forever


Wow. If I had a therapist, she could have a field day with a poem like this.