Thunderstruck

The house collapsed and I was crushed under the rubble, pulverized, but here I am, walking around as if I were alive — the swain, with an oxeye daisy in my buttonhole, the bitter voluptuary, never satisfied, the three-legged dog, the giant under the tiny parasol at the Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, the only Abyssinian in the choir of the Abyssinian Baptist Church. (Somebody must have done a self-portrait of me.) Just amazing. I think I could wrap my arms all the way around the 24,901-miles-circumferenced Earth.