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When it comes
to protecting myself, nowadays,
I am shit at it.
On a longboard yesterday, freewheeling
down in my distraction, I sent myself flying.
It almost felt good to land:
to recall my childhood fluency in scrapes and shiners,
for many years nearly forgotten, once I grew up
and became practiced at shielding the body.
I found a line of bruises on my hip, elbow, and wrist:
skin grazed on pavement, old sting
of gravity and autumn.