pilate esque

he is the meat
of a white chalk outline

stumbles over
tongue
and self

legs buckle

and the floor
rushes up
to his cheek

he'll go off on his own
rounding dangerously steep bends

that he could have fallen
that he could have plummeted
to his death

i didn't try to stop him

and it surprises
me

how little
i care

anymore