Muerte en el Gran Cañón

I’ve sometimes wondered

how long you would fall

if you were to fall

into the Grand Canyon . . .

I suppose you could use some measurement,

some formula that has you hurtling through the air

at ‘X’ miles per hour until you hit ‘terminal velocity’,

or the canyon floor.

Fitting phrase that, ‘terminal velocity’ . . .

I wonder how long it takes

for you to mess your pants up

on the way down.

I bet Wiley Coyote knows.

How humiliating it would be

to get beaten to death

by your backpack filled

with life-sustaining water

and granola bars

just before you make your mark in the world.