At age 12 there was a park hill going down To join my family gathered around a rugged table with refreshment I began to descend slowly at first proud to master space But gravity and determination were not well-matched and propelled me speed began its pace to betray me And once I reached the level bottom where grass and concrete met I had fallen bruised I hoped no one had seen the disaster of such eagerness Scuffed there was no brushing off Standing revealed stiffness of one such solo hands my tentative but able brakes and then other’s hands to lift me up Laughter offsetting ego’s red Oh that I had learned to drop my self indignation then but it would be 50 years before I stepped off again hard from this tilt-a-whirl world and let another care for the shattered rim and bone of me crown dissected injected internally with surgical precision slivers to pin me back together