Usually for a man. Or a woman. A someone else.
You get the feeling you could fast for a year.
Or run Everest. Barefoot. With a hundred pound pack.
In a blizzard. Uphill. Both ways. And the rest of the world
would sigh, and say, “Ah, love. Makes people crazy.”
And though there would be a lot of head shaking
and tongue clicking, the world would be jealous.
But sometimes it happens that you get the feeling
you might just do the craziest thing, not really for anyone else,
not really for you, either, in fact, you do it for no reason
at all except that it rises in you that this is The Thing To Do—
sure, run up a mountain. Or swim the Atlantic.
Or crawl the Sahara. Or even, imagine it,
dare to wake up and drink coffee, then walk
out the door to the car like the unlikely hero you are,
drive the speed limit down the highway to the office, where
you do whatever you do and give it everything
you have, crazy as it seems. Oh the stapler! The paperwork!
The phone calls one after the other! The sun on your face
when you step out the door. Oh yeah, the people
of the world will be shaking their heads, thinking,
“Dang, that is crazy,” but they will also be wondering
as you walk down the street as if the world is walking with you,
“Wow, how do I get me just a little bit of that?”