Maybe I’m Just Shallow Poem by John Dempsey

Near fatal car crashes,
natural disasters that leave you clinging
to some ravaged palm tree
staring at all the
floating
bodies below, escaping a burning building while your geriatric
neighbors
inhale smoke, cough and-
remembering first kisses,1950’s showgirls, the faces of grandchildren- tumble
onto the carpet (inflexible
Atropos) , waking up
from a 3-year coma- the wife
has run off with a vacuum cleaner
repair man, your children
staring at you like you’ve stepped out of ghost story- you see the light, reach for
one
Good Book
or another, pray silently, and there you are; reborn.

Me?
I check the calendar, call the bank, (and maybe I’m just shallow,
but when you’re broke
and collect vices like baseball cards…) I see that my paycheck has cleared,
the balance is no longer a negative number,
and I thank every god I can think of
like some confused
zealot.