It's always a bit of a shock
when I do something wrong.
Glass slips, glass breaks. I hear the sound echo without resolve. I stare at the glass, I soak in liquid. I stare at the glass. Someone watches, and nudges forth a broom. I well up in embarrassment. I stare at the glass. I carry the broom heavy, I clean the mess. I get angry at being fallible. I stare at what once was. I dry off. I explain I didn't need a drink of water, I wasn't thirsty. And then I reach for