Handicapped

   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 photo, 20" x 28", 1999
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JAMES W JOHNSON