Grace is not my middle name.

The other night I shut the dog park gate.

With leash in hand and hound by my side

I peered through the dark thinking I’d soon be home.

Deep in thought we walked towards the parking lot.

My shoe touches concrete sidewalk,

But it cannot connect to the curb, for that would be too easy.

And I think at that very moment….”I am not a bird I cannot fly!”

Grace is not my middle name. And a big”oh shit” came to mind.

As just beyond the curb the concrete rushes up.

In a way to big of a hurry to greet me.

Watching me, seeing me,

Marveling at how gracelessly I bit the big one.

My Hound standing there

Total puzzlement in his doggie eyes.

Not comprehending how I could land in a crumpled old heap

In the parking lot, and by my jeep.

This be my story, my sad tale of clumsiness.

This really be my only claim to those hallowed ranks

……………………. Of dog park fame.