What was I doing lying on the sidewalk?
At Fifth and Chestnut?
Didn’t I just cross the street?
From Independence Square toward the Arden?
What happened?
Why do I see legs, a pole?
Instead of pedestrian faces?
What’s that scrape on my palm?
Who’s the man offering help?
Thanks. Yes, I’m fine, as I grab the outstretched hand.
Pulling me onto my feet.
A little disoriented.
Your shoe hit the cutout in the curb, the stranger pointed.
Sure you’re okay? he asked before moving on.
I assured him I was fine, dusting off clothing.
I spun to walk with Bob.
Hoping I didn’t rip my slacks.
Thinking, they’re new.
Strange, what goes through the mind.
After an accident.
I looked down.
Slacks, untorn.
Only the leg underneath skinned.
So, we proceeded.
Stopped at CVS for Purell.
To apply to the bloody scrape.
Then off to see Once on this Island.
Fairytale to distract.
Grateful to stand up, move.
Walk away intact.
Lynn Benjamin
May 29, 2024
