“…the clippers on my nape”

“…the clippers on my nape.”

If I watched my birth, I’d see snow falling outside
the hospital, while I suckled my mother’s nipple.
If I saw the smile on father’s face, as he cuddled his newborn sun, I’d not understand his bickering today.
If I knew the day of grandma’s death,
If I convinced my mother that I could predict the future, she would let Jaime see her one last time.
If I saw my brother’s “flick-of-a-light-switch” moods, I would
have been his best friend when we were young.
If I foresaw the blinking lights in my
rearview mirror, I would’ve taken a different route.
If I felt my constricting colon, I would’ve
gotten help sooner.
If I could relive my haircuts, the barber’s
scissors would never touch my head again, nor would I feel
the vibration of the clippers on my nape.
If I could crawl into my mother’s womb, I would stay hidden in the folds of her vagina for an extra two years.
If I foresaw the comedy my life has
become, I would have begun laughing years ago.
And if I could see my death, I’d write my epitaph:
“The man who lived a thousand lives and had
a million regrets.”