From the corner she peers
Idly
legs perpendicularly cut
the paved ways that allow crossing
a man stumbles
she looks back
(even though his legs move forward)
tripping over themselves
some call this an accident
she calls it a curse
stumbling was the only way
a physical studder
the unbalanced misstep destined to be
out of synch
like lines crossing in opposite directions
in the moment they do meet
their separate paths become indiscernible
a single space without trajectory
the moment passes like every stumble
he returns to what he knows
one foot in front of the other
