Handicapped Hey, look, my shoe was untied. As I stepped I tripped on my own shoelace. Falling... I scrape my hands and knees. Stingers like glass pop open my skin, letting blood tempt gravel with a fresh drink. Falling down... stupidly, a blush on my face like a cheap wine. I listen for a laugh but no one seems to notice, let alone care. Getting up, walking away.. I think, "At least I have feet."
oil, collage on mounted photo, 20" x 28"back
JAMES W JOHNSON