Wicked bad custom designed green with queasiness poem

(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.