I lose my grip on the cliff's
slight ledge, instinctively
grab the rope, pay the price with
friction on flesh.

Flip into whitewater, gasp for air,
grasp the rope that pulls me
from under-cut rock.

Spray snow like flushed grouse,
stop my skis inches from barbed wire,
though pole strap bends thumb to wrist,
chips knuckle bone.


I stumble
off a curb, where a
driver stops, calls EMS

Mid-day, on a Forbes Avenue sidewalk,
where strangers help right me.

Topple, like a dead sequoia,
concrete cracking six ribs.

Near pop and popcorn,
my wife eases me down,
my granddaughter helps me up,
the lady behind us fuming,

It's a disgrace...drunks in a theater!

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