a possibility turns to a certain fact, lived as

a certain fate, becomes self fulfilling –

but logic makes no dent on passion wild,

it will be, it has to be; becomes the haunted cry

of the wailing banshee. for what else could be said

of the mad man repeating the same chant each day?

cherry picking, a news cast, a statistic, an odd ball,

there i proved my theory!

while the common folks stared in puzzlement at

the illogical arguments – then the fire died down,

a glazed look: a white flag. and a man jumps into

the pit of the earth, feeling the drop wheeze by,

feels nothing but glee. i proved it, he says,

i am invulnerable while onlookers still kept their

pierced eyes on erratic behaviors, possibly damnation.

the bottom was thick, foggy and mercurial –

an apparition appeared before the twisted body still

having spasms – and it contained all the opportunities

sorely missed, could have been, might have been, perhaps,

and there was no difference in the outcome of a damned cat

with 9 lives and a soothsayer who believed that he knew the future.