Tonight's Poet Corner: A Nasty Spill
A Nasty Spill by Belinda Roddie She sat on the curb with bruises on her knees and two blown out tires on the bicycle she had inherited from her father. She was crying. A man walked over with ice packs and a chai latte from the closest café. He didn't ask for anything back - just handed her the healing and the coping mechanisms and make sure she had a ride home. When her mother arrived, they both sat on the curb together, and they held each other, and they shed tears together, and meanwhile, the bicycle lay feebly in a weary slouch on the pavement, lips deflated, leaving only crooked spokes that were once talkative teeth.