No-Cure Privilege
by Odin Roark

Accumulating a bucket list
is a no-cure privilege
giving me space to forget
everyone’s constant prattle that
I spend way too much time not dying.

I give acknowledgment,
then climb aboard my hot air balloon,
dive into the bowels of sunken ships,
or Ironman race myself across the Mojave,
and then…
discover more goodies for the bucket.

But today…

The Monte Carlo start-time ticks down
as fans adjust their ear plugs,
the pit crew sweats over the checklist
and my Formula-One gleams proudly,
ready to ignite twelve big ones.

Me?

I take a driver’s-pause to reflect,
circle the pliant beast,
point my camera,
pause,
click,
circle,
pause,
click…

I look up before getting strapped in,
shrug, wink, and wave to the doubters,
reminding myself that it’s all just ceremony,
that just because the privileged are stubborn about dying,
doesn’t mean the bucket won’t be empty at some point.

Maybe today?

C’mon. Ya gotta smile.
Not everyone gets to digitize death’s latest invitation.