Ski Trip

	I relaxed on the lift ride up the mountain.
	Dangled my skis, stretched out

	for I had it all to myself this time.
	Removed my gloves. Got tissue 

	to wipe my nose. When, right 
	in front of me, a boy fell from the lift.

	A splintering sound, 
	an impact of skis and weight.

	Then all went quiet. The father
	peered down at his son with arm

	along the back of the metal chair.
	His face revealed nothing like a blank

	slate. Inside, possibly embarrassed.
	Down below the boy looked at his legs.

	At his limp body. And began 
	to shriek. These high, piercing

	shrieks. It gets worse. He started
	to cry out that he couldn’t move. 

	One night, years later, my bike tire
	hit a patch of ice. And that moment.

	Falling through the air. The instant
	before hitting solid concrete. 

	Let out a scream.
	Like it was my last chance to live.

                    
                  
        

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