Have you ever teared up at brunch when you were supposed to be deciding what to order?
Was it due to all the uncertainty of life, the way things keep changing? How nothing is fixed?
Did you enjoy your mimosa anyway? The carmelized apples? Were the carmelized apples a blessing, even though the man to your left kept talking about renting a hotel room to learn all the three-letter Scrabble words?
Afterward, did you sit in the park and watch a little girl with straight posture and a braid do a dainty run back and forth to fetch large rocks and hurl them with force upon the flagstones? Like this: run run, hands out at sides, run run, THROW the rock down to see if it breaks?
At one point did she come back with a walk that involved lifting her feet high, as if stepping through fairy dew from a ballet recital? Step. Step. Step. THROW the rock down.
Have you had this line in your head for a while?: to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier. Is living is like that, also? Luckier and more painful?
Suppose we embrace it? The dream-like rhetorical bent? The rocks and the stepping through dew? What then?