Odds Are a Salvo

Fired in jest—odd or
Ordinary, what
Are the odds we’re both?

That life really is
Rare in this cosmos
But ordinary

Enough that pockets
Of life are scattered
Around like jackpots

Litter lotteries—
Yes, unusual,
Whenever one’s won,

Unfathomable
In your neighborhood,
Much less for yourself,

And yet it happens,
Quite regularly.
Could life be like that?

Seems more likely than
Earth being unique,
Truly a one-off

Among the trillions
Of possible spots,
Just one small salvo

Of gnawing hungers
In all the burning
Universe. And yet,

No way of knowing,
Yet. Those galaxies
Look more like mere fires

Than like life’s monsters
That keep swimming up
From our ocean depths.