Out of
season
and
unanticipated
a bumblebee
stung you on
the
fleshiest part
of your
fleshy arm.
Your feet
slid out
from under
you, the ground
struck you,
a rabid dog
snapped at
you
as you lay
sprawled
at the
steaming
water’s
edge.
I just
looked down
at you
and smiled
my special smile.
Passers-by,
spitting
concerned
noises,
hurried to
lift
you to your
feet,
looked at
me reproachfully,
would
doubtless
comment
later
upon the horrid
callousness
of young
people
these days.
People
always do
tend to
misjudge my age.
