I, Dismantled

I lost my ear in a car wreck;

Well, but wreck's really too strong a word.  

Mishap sounds stupid, though, 

Or at least I do when I tell the story.  

It was a rock, a basic little road rock, 

Clipped by a tire, or a fender, or a windshield,

Or a mirror, and…BA-DING!!!

Up in my open window, 

And I'm minus an ear. 

The stupid part happens when I say

I didn't even realize it happened. 

Got all the way home, earless, 

In the door, to the bathroom, mirror, 

And then, there I am, earless still.  

With no pain.  

Dori called, said "Honey, I can't tonight, 

I'm just too…, too, y'know," 

I knew, 

"Will Mori be okay?"  

Mori is Dori's sister 

And Mori is simply too too, too, 

Y'know? and this is what I told Dori, 

But we promised to see each other

Maybe on the weekend, but maybe not.

Because we don't want

To get too close.  

She says I worry her, with my prone ways, 

My accidents happening to wait for no time, no reason,

Just always ever present.  Like the time 

I lost my left pinky.  Or when, 

Inexplicably, my spleen fell out.  Most everyone 

Has two patellas:  

Me, one.  

It's a long story, involving 

An errant basketball goal, a badger, and a blowout 

On an interstate in Arkansas under a fog.  

These disparate elements are tied together 

By the accordion that my uncle willed me.  

He didn't play accordion, and now that my right 

Elbow has been reported missing, neither 

Will I.  

Dismantled, I call a lifeline, begging 

Forgiveness for whatever sins are held

To be mine, whatever grievances I have 

Caused her and her family.  Mainly, admittedly, 

Her family, but a lawyer in time of need is still 

A lawyer.  He's dottered

By my side in many a courtroom, spewing 

Venom and brimstone at whatever young 

Buck or doe of a judge happens to be dutying 

Their civics by probating me, again, and only 

Once did my sweet lifeline's 95 year old 

Uncle the lawyer let me down. 

I had to clean a highway, 

My bright orange vest a cry to the

Wilds of drivers who actively seek to 

Drive down the handicapped.  

My crutch as a poniard, 

I got some coupons:  notebook paper, shampoo,

Two or three batteries and an all-you-can-eat 

Buffet special flyer.  

I reported these to the sheriff who was talking 

To his mother on the car radio.  

I thought there might be a deductible business expense 

To be had, for me if not for him, although what business 

I had being out there in the first place, well, 

Again, another story.  

Because I startled the sheriff when I interrupted him, 

And he shot me in the left foot, and then he watched me 

Roll around his car, while he explained, somewhat

Patiently I thought, considering the context, that

He really did like the apple pies his 

Mother made, it's just that you can only eat so

Many apples before lemon meringue starts to 

Really sound good.  I don't blame him for the gangrene,

By the way, and not entirely for the 

Loss of the foot, although of course without the hand

Holding the gun shooting the bullet…,

But I quibble.  

These quiddities are the essence of life, 

As I get it, and the last doctor I spoke to said

He has seen people without hips live 

Productive lives.  I sneezed, and he caught what was 

Left of my nose, and my right eyebrow, some degenerative 

Hereditary skin affliction dissolving a manly

Portion of my jaw at the same time.  

I tell you, 

I am charmed, blessed, to have had a lifeline by the side 

I have left, the left one mainly gone the way of the ear,

The elbow, the leg, the spleen, the nose, 

These momentary holdings and foldings of what 

She and I shared before she left me, before 

I started to fall apart, 

Before my right good 

Bye.

© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved