N I N E / L I V E S
It started early on in my flying career.
First time was in a helicopter rocketing down low across a beach in East Timor,
Sitting quietly hoping the guy at the controls didn't clip a fallen log, and tumble us.
Second time was hovering, stuck on the side of a clouded-in hill, Timor,
With no way out except a miraculous gap we escaped down through to the jungle floor below.
Lot's of times like that.
Third time was stupid, young and drunk,
Behind a wheel I shouldn't have been anywhere near.
Fourth time was in Afghanistan,
Every time we rolled down the rocky mountain track
Where the Mujahideen used to kill Soviets.
Then a lucky run on escapes.
Fourth time was an oil spill on the Peruvian national highway
Front tyre of my bike slipped out
And I slid on my helmet 80 meters into the oncoming lane.
Fifth time I was drugged and mugged in Bolivia,
Defenceless in a dark ally somewhere,
Nothing to do except pray.
Sixth time was on the inside corner of a mountain hairpin in the Andes,
Truck closing me down, squeezing me into the barrier and off down the thousand foot drop.
My lucky day.
Everyday rolls of the dice, too.
Seventh time was in swell too big for me,
Ego paddled out just before dark,
Snapped my board, dumpers sucking me under each set.
This time for sure.
Eighth time I pulled out of a T-intersection on my bike,
And the headlights of the massive truck slid in the wet on brakes jammed up
Way, way past where I should have been completely smeared.
Ninth time, on retreat in the silence
My ego just up'ed and left.
Dead.
Gone.
And I wept and wept,
In relief.
cjG
#mygroundtruth
