Bottom Line

The birds are singing like crazy this morning.

Whistling and chirping, warbling, squawking,

claiming their territory, mine, mine, mine,

and calling for sex, pouring themselves

into the blue bowl of morning.

When Dan was hit by the wheel of a truck,

left dead from the neck down

except for one forefinger,

he made a bargain with God

that he’d live a year before killing himself.

By the end, he had weeping bedsores

and couldn’t sit up in his wheelchair.

He made another deal that he’d stick around

only if he didn’t have to live that way,

lying facedown on a bed, looking into a mirror

to see people. The following year

he had another bout of sores and a kidney infection

that put him in the hospital.

I was ashamed, Dan said, I didn’t have a bottom line.

I wanted to live no matter what.