I trip.

I trip,
Upon my excitement
It is both usual and unfamiliar,
Understandable and wonderfully off-kilter.
A super power of the clumsy
To slow down time,
an earthquake’s rumbling,

My Richter scale is on full tilt
Did I cut my arms.
on the corner
of my kitchen counter?

No blood was drawn,
but what if i was a sketch artist?
A sordid batch of hemophiliacs,
surely they would have been frightened.

Why do we smile when we feel pain?
Why do we laugh at white rugs stained
Wine is a hell of a white drug when it rains
all over the morning after.

We should role-play as vampires
Telling stories of our misguided youth in the rafters
Once energized enough we’ll fall downstairs,
in the direction of the camp fire,
surrounded by the souls of the soldierly
Telling stories in a circular exchange.
Who needs the club,
when we’re the new rotary.

Michael Carney