Body balanced on the exact line between
One state of a disintegrating being and one
State of being something else disintegrating,
Allowing awareness a moment to savor
The desert blue of the mindless sky, allowing
Mind the time to mutter, mutter silently that
The problem with a man on a wire is all he
Thinks about is being the man on the wire,
The wire, this step, the wire, this step, the
Wire. Present-moment mindfulness is
A bloody ungenerous thing, save for staying
Aloft when you are where you should never
Have gone, trying not to go where you will
Have to go eventually. You’re entranced, but
You’re boring. You’re alive, but you’re totally
Bizarre. And if you make it across this wire
Somehow, you will never live up to this fall
You avoided when you finally do have to fall.
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