More days than most I fail to thank
the world for being just as it is,
stubborn as patches of kudzu,
unforgiving as the snapper 

at the bottom of the pond,
lessons carried into meetings
with bank managers, or my wife 
when I feel compelled to tell her that she’s wrong.

I’ve learned so much about injustice,
the convincing threat of a cruel hand,
how to separate the slow and stupid 
from money, make an ashtray of white sand.

That the wounded make easy prey,
little bunnies breed so frequently 
to produce enough high-protein progeny
to keep apex predators fat and happy.

There are those who delight in seeing others fail,
one gust of wind and the circus tent collapses,
one loose screw and the rocket explodes,
too much hubris and the sub implodes.

It’ll take the fall into that cold, dark abyss,
before I’m grateful for everything I’ll miss.