A different life is just a choice away,
a corridor a whisper wide to cross,
a path uncharted leading from today
to unexplored conditions that may toss
tomorrows like a salad, mercury
released in silver twining rivulets.
If I do this or there or then, I’ll be
a person that a different life befits.

If I had only gone the other way,
subjunctive singers mumble their regrets.
But what if I turn this way now, I say,
and weave a future out of other nets?
If I were to explore the path I found
today, will I tomorrow be more sound?