almost in poetry

I have gotten in my life
more “almosts” than anyone
more “almosts” than the average person
would get in twenty-five lifetimes and
I’m not even dead yet
I’ve spent so very long so very bitter
that all of them were “almosts”
that I never quite got there
fortune fame
financial independence
love detachment from all forms of blame
in my weaker moments
that records setting pile of “almosts”
is all that I can see
in my weaker moments
that burial mound of “almosts” stacked
feels like all there is to me

but most people don’t even get
the luxury the privilege of “almosts”
most people don’t get anywhere close
to escape velocity from
this life of quiet desperation and
I have tasted the ionosphere
I have fingered at the brass ring
the tippy-top of my head got to
feel what it is to not just be
here tethered to this earth
brushed against the heavens
not this mudball of our birth

in those stronger moments I
wonder why I got
to be so fucking lucky as
to even know what I am missing
in those stronger moments
my heart screams out
and I can listen
to the sky

the song of the spheres
the way up high
I’ve ducked into it
for occasional seconds
that’s so much more than most
ever get at, I reckon
what a lucky asshole
to even flirt an eyeblink
with the fullness of the sky
what a lucky guy
almost