MI / Orchid

Jack lacked a reason,

or perhaps lacking reason entirely

he found himself on a rooftop 

littered with evidence of

his inexplicable failure to commit

at key points in his life.

Under the sky, burning hot with the gasses

produced by myriad prejudices and simple distastes,

he sweated a decision,

asked himself ten questions repeatedly,

with three question marks each,

as if he could text or telegraph himself into the future,

the after, the whatever.

This time he stepped up to bat, 

decisions made in the past left passed, 

determined to act,

but his heart wasn't in it after all.

Even the paramedics who covered his face

carried him off the roof 

with a shade of disgust

called orchid.