Off-Balance, Running

The fan had a wobble in it.

One blade heavier, or the mount

slightly loose—something was off,

and it kept going anyway.

3am. Low speed. The longer chain

swung a little every third rotation.

I counted. That's the kind of thing

you do when you don't want to think.

Two years ago I made a choice

I've never told anyone was a mistake.

Not a disaster. Just the kind of quiet wrong

that you carry because there's no good time.

The room was dark except the streetlight

coming in slant through the blinds.

My friend asleep somewhere past the wall.

The fan going. Wobbling. Going.

I watched it for half an hour, maybe.

Then longer.