Thunderstruck

The house collapsed and I was crushed under the rubble,

pulverized, but here I am,

walking around as if I were alive — 

the swain,

with an oxeye daisy in my buttonhole,

the bitter voluptuary, never satisfied,

the three-legged dog,

the giant under the tiny parasol at

the Fontaine-de-Vaucluse,

the only Abyssinian in the choir of the

Abyssinian Baptist Church.

(Somebody must have done a self-portrait of me.)

Just amazing. I think I could wrap my arms all the way around

the 24,901-miles-circumferenced Earth.