Yesterday I fell on the sidewalk.
The breath was knocked out of me.
It’s the third time since moving here.
The sidewalks are terrible, and I was looking at a dogwood’s
There was no one around to rescue me.
I didn’t have the phone I’ve stopped carrying.
Walking home I thought of my boomer pals.
Him with his patterned days laid out.
Her with the new game preserve.
They think not falling is the way.
My tongue feels around a chipped tooth.
I don’t think that.