Whereas a person suffering from paranoia feels that persons or entities 
are conspiring against them, a person experiencing pronoia feels that 
the world around them conspires to do them good. ~ Wikipedia

What if half of a random pair of latex 
gloves chanced upon on the verandah 
is the very thing you need to pick 

invasive bugs off the persimmon tree?
And what of synchronicity, as when
you rebook  an earlier return flight 

then get home just in time to hear 
news of a long dormant volcano's 
eruption?  It spewed such thick

gas emissions, all airports shut down 
from impaired atmospheric visibility.
Mabuti na lang, you say to each other;

it's a good thing. As if a voice
whispered from the asteroid field
of your brain to say, like Luke 

Skywalker on first seeing the Death 
Star, I have a bad feeling about this.
The important receipt turns up faded 

but still readable and dry after the laundry
 cycle. A lump in the breast is merely 
tissue thick as a spoonful of cold

oatmeal, not a ticking time bomb. So many 
narrow escapes, so many little windfalls 
for which you're grateful—as if an unseen 

hand rights the wing mirror and a lurching
vehicle crosses your blind spot, so in the nick 
of time you manage to get out of the way.


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