To Survive Poem by RIC BASTASA

to survive i go for the golden mean
not so tall and not so short

the tastier, meatier part i suppose
is the middle part of the sandwich

the smoother flow is the middle
part of the river

the safer part is the middle in every
location

at the extreme right what do you get?
or at the extreme left?

i sing between
you extreme joy is killing you with arrogance
your extreme sorrow is killing you with hopelessness

you see,
i live in the middle of everything
not so hot and not so cold and they always call it

this paradise.