First To Fall

We started with the bike, as I recall–
It seemed a good idea at the time–
And someone in the front row took a fall
Just as the gun went off. Who’s guilty? I’m.
I’d just reached down to tighten up the strap
On my toe-clip (who still remembers those?)
When BANG the race began. I thought, Oh, crap,
And someone bumped me sideways. I suppose
The day will come when I feel less ashamed
Of ruining the Optimists’ debut
Triathlon, but maybe being blamed
For Tri-Disaster One’s a sort of coup?
Someone has to be the first to fall
In every sport, and I answered the call!

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Appearing Or Occurring At Irregular Intervals

Stumbled over in an attic
Rarely visited: Sporadic.
Not occasional–that’s when
It happens every now and then
But isn’t unexpected, like
Those weekends when you ride your bike.
Intermittent doesn’t do it–
There’s a sense of purpose to it
That sporadic seems to lack:
Coughing, vice a bad attack
Of hiccups, or a sudden sneeze.
Sporadically bless me, please,
Or, if you’d rather, Gesundheit.
Sporadically, I get that right.

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Under The Wire

On September 1st
I fell down and skinned my knee.
Summer checklist: Done!

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Checklist

Trumpet;
Mouthpiece;
Music stand;
Kerchief for my oily hand;
Cup and straight and harmon mute
(Plus pixie if they want it cute);
Oil (for the valves);
And grease (to help those sticky slides release).

First rehearsal of the year
And everything I need is here!
Raise the bell and let ‘er rip:

Blaaappp!!

Oh, crap.
Forgot my lip.

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A Failure Of Imagination

“We can’t have nice things, and this is why.”
I missed the explanation, but I know
It’s something that I’ve done, or something I
Should want to do but don’t. But even so,
The part that I don’t understand is this:
What makes you think the things we have aren’t nice?
Perhaps our home is not a pond of bliss,
But it’s clean, safe and warm, which should suffice.
If luxuries are what you’re looking for,
I get that. Now and then it’s nice to splurge
On something that meets all your needs and more,
And there’s a rush from following that urge.
I understand, but don’t know what to do.
I can’t conceive of wanting more than you.

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Metaphorology

The air is cool, the scent is sweet
There’s water on the lawn and street
Unsalted tears for summer’s end…
(All right, it’s rain, but let’s pretend)

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The Secret

I’m not supposed to say, I know,
How this is done, but even so
I think a hint is fair, so I’m
Just gonna whisper: make it rhyme

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