I think a lot about the man
who drove off the Virginia pier
last year.

He sped through the gates—
a very public space,
he followed his fear,
and created his own fate.

Yet at the very edge,
he still hit the brakes.

All the rage
of his pain,
as his regret
seeped in,
he had realized
he met his end.

I feel for him,
I wept watching the news,
I feel for him,
part of me wished,
I was in his shoes.

Is it insensitive of me
to say
I wish I could
trade?