Flat

If I can keep a tear in, the moment can stay hidden

As I slide across the wet floor, never before ridden

In shoes I never should have worn,

So carelessly walking,

Swearing I can walk and chew gum while talking.

Stabilizing gestures keep me from figure skater grace,

A moment of embarrassment to dismiss

And later hope my old-age mind can erase.

The approaching wall, no surprise—

Another reminder of just how flat it is, in all directions,

Giving flat a 3D correction.

It doesn’t need to be a drop or jagged edge,

It can make you pledge:

Flat can knock your world around

Until it’s round.

Never a tether or a brake—

It all just goes, until

The world will never be so round

It feels profound.

A million seconds of slow motion,

Imagining the commotion.

I try to brace as I continue in my skate—

Could it knock me back to eight?

The last time I remember greeting a morning,

Days, easy or hard, never specifically come with a warning.

How could the world be believed to be so round,

With the majority never being witness to it. Believing in what others found

We just all have faith,

to keep us From having to do everything ourselves in it.

We believe, and admit.

And now-

Flat is only visible.

How?