In a heavy mist and unusually vacant
Of wildlife, not a doe or a crow in the road
Much less a moose, bear, coyote, or eagle,
The narrow green ribbon unwound under
The wheels of the wavering automobile.
Time for mind to imagine things between
The lacustrine villages. Here’s a game
You can try yourself on a long drive if you like:
Start by imagining a plausible but unlikely
Event, any event, good, bad or indifferent.
Could be a comeuppance for an old rival,
An unfortunate accident for a loved one,
An opportunity for a romance or a new job.
The ordinary scenarios minds wander into.
Now pursue it enthusiastically in your head.
Add detail. Imagine consequences, follow-up
Events and conversations. Let it build
Into something of a narrative, however
Unstructured. Then stop at some point
Of rich detail and ask yourself, will it ever
Happen like this? Will it ever happen? No,
It won’t. You’ve just illuminated one corner
Of the infinite universe of what will not be.
Skeptical? Pull over to the side of the road
And jot it all down, the details especially.
Perhaps it’s not true that you’ve prevented
Whatever you imagined from coming true,
And people fib their memories to fit all
The time. But you might as well have done.
Carry your little story around with you
And contemplate the knowledge things
Will never, ever happen just like that. Try it.
On the steep and densely wooded slopes
The emptied cabins and mining claims
That once gave this road its nickname
Were now no more than dents and cavities
In the green. All those miners, all those
Jackpot dreams that never played out quite
As dreamed, and yet here, in another century,
Spun this misty world no one dreamed at all.
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