A moment longer than the walk to school

I’m poetry struck
I didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t snort anything
my body bounces along the streets
I breathe too fast
and my skin gets goose bumps
it’s like I have a fog machine
running incessantly in my head
the mind grows fuzzy,
but the body rejoices
as if it’s just been stripped naked
to be immersed in the cauldron and baptized
life, get over here, gimme a kiss
no idea when you’ll catch me in a such a good mood again
I cross the bridge
and look at the water
think, obviously, to let myself go and jump,
talking about baptism earlier
here’s another one right now
some couples do the wedding and the christening together –
I could do a double baptism this moment
why don’t I jump?
I can see it in slow motion
first the hands on the railing
a small heave,
one leg over, then the other,
then the slide, the plunge,
no one would notice
It would be lovely in this green, muddy water
maybe I’d turn into a frog
ribbit ribbit
I don’t know what this is, I do actually
it’s a moment of grace
it lasts all the way to school
where I go to pick up my kids
and I suddenly
feel the need to go over their features in my mind
I’ve crossed the bridge
moved away from the water
but never been closer than this
to think I could jump
the thought has never been closer to its end, the deed,
they nearly looked each other in the eye
I’m laughing like an idiot
I got a facial this afternoon
and I’m afraid
the lady might wipe that very moment of grace right off my face
above me some seagulls are screeching,
fine, you come along then,
I even love the socks-in-flip-flops of the woman walking toward me
I love
neuroplasticity.