I dropped the coco aminos
and reached quickly to stop
the glass bottle breaking
on my foot. Instead, my
head connected with the
fridge in two places, hard.
Sometimes I think I may
not know how much I have
hurt my head. You know,
ninth grade after soccer
pre-tryouts, when you got
hit in the head with the ball
and then got dizzy later. You
remember that frisbee tournament,
when you dove for one too many
and the day was a little hazy. You
must remember. I remember.
That must mean something.
Some kind of cliche reason
that everything will be fine.
That everything will be fine.
Wishes. For now, though,
everything is fine.
Roman Ryan 