I’ve got a schmaltzy heart & a chip on my
hip from too much leaning against things I
shouldn’t. I suspect I walk crooked. Once
a stranger guessed which exact bone I’d
broken in my foot 3 years prior (high on the
dancefloor). He said he studied some school
of medicine I’d never heard of & can’t
remember but I swear it really happened.
Like many poems I must defend the fact that
I exist. Try to put it right there in the title.
