The Bomber Will Always Get Through

Fell off my bike
Struck my head to the curb
Bad for my hairline
Great for self-worth

Damage to both lobes
Like a broken tube
Lighting dimmed
But the view improved

Direct line to God
Shared connective tissue
Better clasp
On the burning issues

Abstract approach
To reasoned problems
Bird calls for lost dogs
And hands laid upon them

Emerge from a coma
In a pale blue cube
Given a shirt
And a bus fare to someplace new

Legs became sticks
I rest on wedges
Torso a stone
I rest my head on

Head became claw
I grip new things with
Tongue into handshake
Eyes to antennae

Return to work
Was warmly received
Leapt from the bathroom window
Said I was taking a leak

Found a place in the sun
Found a hole in the earth
Lost a place at the table
Found myself none for the worse

Attracted a new friend
Found in love with space
Hard fall, a cracked skull
Made a great day