Roads Not Taken

I thought about joining the Navy instead of
getting married. I might have been a pilot,
or a battleship commander – and died
at the bottom of the sea. I could have
played on the college baseball team,
become an All-American or been that guy – the final cut.

I considered retiring in the Sonoran Desert,
joining the fat Saguaro cactus with a red
scorpion posing its deadly tail above my foot. I
could’ve walked the bazaar and eaten
fresh Tlayuda from a Tucson street vendor.
How ‘bout a moon tan on the midnight rooftop of
Karamba’s Bar, listening to Santana’s guitar?

Now, I see a blue sky eventide, still lit
by the stubborn sun. But is it my sky?
Should I be struggling under a brumous
London sky or tending sails filled with
Caribbean winds? On a different road,
the winds in my sky could flow across the
wings of the Amazon’s scarlet macaw.

I look back at all the roads – and wonder.