I have been reminded of my breaking rib adventure recently. With all the coughing and sneezing thanks to the series of plagues I have had this winter, the area where my rib was cracked got all inflamed. Perhaps I loosened some adhesions or something. So not just the occasional weather event reminds me of my “stupid” episode.
There once was a fence—a white rod-iron fence—
to keep big pines in from wandering the neighborhood,
or perhaps it was to keep cars out from trespassing the corner yard.
A car left a gaping hole in the yard’s mouth;
it stayed that way for months. Years?
Fix it? Okay.
Last week, it was laid as flat as a downed fence,
waiting . . . waiting.
This week, it was gone . . . all but one post,
one lonely post,
one malevolent post
ready to pounce.
A pounce post!
I rounded the corner on my bike,
dog on leash in tow.
Stupid to not have gone out in the street,
Trash cans were holding a conversation with the lone post,
but keeping their distance,
plotting how to arrest those who ride on sidewalks
rather than on busy streets—maybe.
Or maybe talking about the weather.
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