8-14 Our Appointment

Our Appointment


They estimate 151,600 people die worldwide every day. This day.

How many 151,600 awoke, not knowing this is their very last day?

My chances are 1/151,600. Better than lottery odds. Worse than jury duty.

1.8 people die every second. Every tick of the wall clock.

I watch the minute hand stroke away life after life second by second.


And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment;1


It is early afternoon and I am to read my poems

at a Poetry in Plain Sight celebration in an hour.


If I drive one route carefully, shall I miss 1 of today’s 151,600?

If I drive another road as carefully, shall I be 1 plus 151,999?


.           .


We read our poetry. Metaphors crashed like cymbals.

After she and I feasted in an Italian restaurant,

garlic pluming out of every pore,

I drove the usual expressway home.


I key these final lines this evening:


“Later, prayers.

Lights out.

I drift



Whose appointment is next?”


1 Hebrews 9:27








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