Break an egg

Lucky to be alive, I have been.

Though, you know, it is possible

for Heroes to choose wrong.

I've seen

Chance has no memory of why 

me, or some such silly magic potion.

No body's in motion.

Keeping warm, for themselves. 

Believe you me, that which we are

we were here

filling our thanks.

The people making times I was excused...

inconsequentially

conditional

to now. 

How my mother put me on the bow of a small sailboat

in rough seas as a baby,

my father ran over me in their 1969 Camaro,

a drummer man overdosed lying on top of me, 

molested by my stepdad's badmate's husband,

while his two children slept nearby

made a bottle of Advil not enough medicine 

to take the pain away, but made the swelling ego

go down 

the tank.
Man. That was the first of many lasts.

Locked up 'Crazy', thrown out into the foster ghetto,

those taught me math and theoretical calculations.

The great earthquake tried to swallow me whole,

the small town ate me alive, diced me up in tiny pieces,

to spread around liberally until I could do no more harm

tastefully.

To be

T-boned at 90, spun into a tree while driving in a hurricane, 

broken down so many times in BFE, broke and down 

in BFE, driving drunk, or high, or unlicensed, never uninsured

hitchhiking my way around, kidnapped, poisoned, toxic shock,

pneumonias, ruptured appendix, a defunct pancreas,

weary grindstone, the corrupt gall cannot stand fat, or chit chat,

for that matter

black ice, the edges

all horizon thin,

but I keep winning, if that is what this is.

I need not know why

luck is a lady

random, like me.