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Bum’s Rush

Lately life has been giving me the bum’s rush

barreling me along, off my footing

on the edge of balance

a touch panicked

unable to settle or grab something stabile.

A trip, not a fall.

Grab the bar, get torn off.

Grab a stool, drag it along.

Door jam just tears the finger nails.

A hand on my neck

Twisted arm, folded wrist. 

Asphalt and air.

About Brent Crash Allen

I Forgot, now you forget

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