(alternately titled for
no particular rhyme nor reason:
courtesy Doctor Donald Dossey
who coined paraskevidekatriaphobia
I wanna see and accompany
black cats ambling
with me along underneath
chutes and ladders committing tree zen.
Ordinarily, I do not
tend to be superstitious
but twenty almost
seven years ago to date
fate did buzzfeed me
a series of unfortunate events
pitting bedrock scientific explanations
into the category of the inexplicable,
when misfortune did challenge
said logic of mine
August thirteenth nineteen
hundred and ninety nine
forever etched in the
annals of my personal infamy
and indelibly scored
into the nooks and
crannies of my psyche
as one still sending
hair raising shivers down my spine
which following unpleasant
details occurred on a street
that branched off kind of like a fork tine
adjacent to one named Woodbine.
Prior to the following awful events
that unfolded aforementioned day
somewhat solemn and gray
I did not consider myself unduly superstitious
nor prone to bouts of triskaidekaphobia/
paraskevidekatriaphobia no how no way.
Yet that particular Friday
the thirteenth baptized me
in the bloody waters
of superstition unequivocally,
whence upon waking
said particular morning
the search for funereal garb found me
burrowing into a small closet
while bending on one wounded knee,
and nonchalantly rummaging
for suitable article of clothing to wear
(per the wake/
sitting shiva of William Zison
the octogenarian father in law)
an unbeknownst ill fate
lurked just seconds away
ready to captcha an innocent prey
as any unseen observer
and/or pet would agree.
Hands rifled and rustled
thru various and sundry
miscellaneous items in one or another box
mostly clothing and other apparel
draped in coat hangers,
plus a precariously perched
heavy tin of yarn heavy as rocks
began to teeter from top ledge,
than made a slow inexorable descent
in direct path of thy crown
containing valued mental stocks
knocking me cents less
unlike strapping fellow id est jocks,
whose noggin squarely
sit on rounded shoulders
housing a chiseled physique
an athletic build sculpted
since infancy to be significant
complex edifice among sports
analogous to laying foundation
with cinder blocks.
The topmost part of thine skull
felt impact of sharp metallic rim
that left an indentation
in soft part of scalp –
more’n an abrasive skim
and bent circular shape
of contrivance filled to the hilt
one law of physics pertaining
to falling object (taught to me)
acquires greater mass
accelerating with velocity and vim.
Upon reflexively yet tentatively
touching raw sore spot
fingertips revealed presence of warm liquid
soon coagulating into a pulpy gordian knot
from sharp lipped impact registering nausea
and vertigo quite a lot
hence sewing crafts managed to stitch
a tattooed laceration forming a bloody clot.
Body writhed with physical torment
as if being only partially alive
whereby waves of blacking
or passing out found me swooning
ready to take a swan dive
nonetheless from Schwenksville
to Penn Valley, I did
(by divine grace) safely drive
whence family members and relatives
once destination reached, the motley crue
began organized car pool arrangements
per heading off to the cemetery,
which caravan formation
similar to a human bee hive,
yours truly declined to go
communicating persistent distress from mishap
I bowed wowed out, stayed home
and kept company with a dog
(purportedly man’s best friend)
(said pet belonging to honorable guest)
of eldest sister in law),
whose open palmed overtures
of mine did not jive.
An impulse found fingers
reaching out to extend
an offertory of getting to know you
to stroke this unfamiliar animal
supposedly man’s best (yeah right) friend
only to find sharp teeth from canine jaw
clamped down hard on hand
which second bodily injury,
I did immediately tend
while bolts of white hot pain
shot thru lower extremity of palm
radiated upward through forearm
into shoulder did wend.