The whole world is a narrow bridge;
the important thing is not to be afraid.



An opening appears
turning at a new sign.
to unexpected space.
Park car.
Stairs running up
to the stadium entrance gate.
Find Section.

An unexpected acquaintance sits down.
A new convo starts up.
Old habits, meanwhile,
beg for the chance
to lean me further over the railing
and fall,
fall me away.

I catch my breath,
feeling dread curl in the pit of my stomach.
Focus on breathing out visions
of loss and love.
Pull out tears
from inside a tunnel of memories
leading out to the concourse,
as in a recent sleeping dream demand
to see my ticket stub.
Only as real as that.

After the game,
I cross the bridge to where I parked,
body held safely aloft,
head no longer afraid of fear,
just newly curious
as to what will happen next.


Fortune Cookie Poems Copyright © 2022 by Stephanie Mirocha. All Rights Reserved.