Borrowed Time I will not die tonight I will lie in bed with my wife beside me, curled on the right like an animal burrowing. I will fit myself against her and we will keep each other warm. I will not die tonight. My son who is seven will not slide beneath the ice like the boy on the news. The divers will not have to look for him in the cold water. He will call, "Daddy, can I get up now?" in the morning. I will not die tonight. I will balance the checkbook, wash up the dishes and sit in front of the TV drinking one beer. For the moment I hold a winning ticket. It's my turn to buy cold cuts at the grocery store. I fill my basket carefully. For like the rain that comes now to the roof and slides down the gutter I am headed to the earth. And like the others, all the lost and all the lovers, I will follow an old path not marked on any map.
David Moreau
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