Jack Imagines a Different Map

Lisa talked about life expectancy,
a report she read online that morning,
how a man who moves from Mississippi
to Maine might move the date of his
death back a decade. I wondered

where I might fall in such averages,
knew that my having a heart attack
next week would need to be balanced
by a man in Minnesota who managed

one hundred and ten, or perhaps I
would be the wizened one, countered
by the early death of someone my age,
a forty-year-old father who leaves his
wife with three children: Chad and Sam,
the twins; Melissa, their baby girl.

And I wondered if there were a place
I might move where a tumor does not
take Ryan before he turns thirty, a state
or city where statistics no longer exist,
where charts and graphs don’t belong,
and life lasts as long as we can stand it.

Kevin Brown

Kevin Brown



  1. Thank you, Kevin Brown, for creating this poem. I am so moved.

  2. A beautifully emotional piece that struck a very deep chord. Thank you.

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