we lie scattered
like the contents of an upturned purse
his motorcycle stalled & steaming
the driver reaches
hot hands to noonday sun
I stumble to my feet
one child clutched in my arms
the other child in a bush across the road
as we were falling I thought
this is death, & it’s okay
because we’re all so happy to be alive
shakily, we reassemble
incomprehensibly, no one’s hurt
the driver rights his toppled ride
one foot peg is skewed
the gas tank bears a fresh indent
rainbows marble
the spray of gravel that spilled us
a rustling from the brush
yields three women sheathed
crown to sole in dusty black
squealing, crooning
syllables we can’t decipher
they unwrap hard candies
push them into the children’s mouths
then all of us, helplessly, laugh
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