Just maybe,
he thought, six years ago or so,
he was on the edge of something,
but he can’t remember now
what it was.

And so he
drifts down life’s river winding,
following force and flow
of shifting currents
without thought.

After all,
he reasons, life leads where it will.
Why not take the path of least
resistance, don’t worry,
be happy?

I am who
I am who I am, he says, as if
tossing out possibility of change
and control over his own
destiny.

He looks through
tired eyes moist and tells me
he thought maybe, six years ago,
he was there, on the edge
of something.