It is good not to know your capital F fate
It is as good not knowing of your liverish or liliaceous death
Eat some lemonbread instead. Chew the poppy seeds like Ulysses.
Surely your heart doesn't beat as madly when you open a fortune cookie
as it does when the airliner taxis down the runway?
It is good not to know your own mind
and the damage you will do to yourself and others
and possibly to the oh-so-vulnerable abstractions
with which you decorated your strange meadow of a life.
It's good not knowing how nature's smudgy pencil top will erase you.
It's delicious as the moment when the final bill lands in your mailbox.
The one that comes the day after you die!
The request for payment which is rendered junk mail!
And all the sparrows begin their "fuck you!" chant
aimed at the mailman's big blue back, as he disappears....
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