we dream that we are choosers–
that our minds can weigh
our lists of pros and cons
and offer us the way for
sensible action.
Lists and justifications and choice
at best
are curtain decoration
for the windows on the plane ride
through turbulence.
We can torment each other with plans for the future,
but we would be better off telling the truth-
that we are surfing
avalanches with briefcases
and nice shoes.
The trees have chosen,
after weighing their options,
to drop off the green,
and then to disrobe,
desperate for a little attention.
Those of us alive are choosing breath
after the pros came out ahead.
What’s next tees up
while we color,
like earnest children
with fancy, art store pencils,
in our sleep.
Life as Improv 