Legitimate, if not likely, ways I might perish

While driving:
— Rifling through the floorboard sea of just-purchased groceries to open a bag of Fritos, then careening into a litter-ridden ditch.
— Peacefully expiring while waiting to turn left at a non-lit intersection.
— Glancing at my phone to switch moody playlists and smashing into the back of a Moon Pie delivery truck.

Of embarrassment: at work, in coffee shops with strangers, opening my mouth to say something mentally well-formed but a parade of confused bees streams out instead.

From violent student mutiny after too many uses of “as we have discussed in class…” in their essay feedback.

Getting dragged away by the crook of an enormous question mark that {until then} had been harmlessly bobbing along behind me for years.

In a freak s’mores-assembling accident. Or a rocky tumble while trying to keep up in Gloucester. {Can you believe anyone gets the honor of being described as a “veteran cheese chaser” or “rebel cheese roller?”}

While reading a poem so dazzling, that so perfectly captures an echoing moment, there was never anything to do but spontaneously combust. My ashes will look suspiciously like pencil shavings.