‘Twas The Parrot Done Her In

That’s what I want put on my tombstone.
Or, assuming I don’t warrant a tombstone,
assuming I’ll be thrown into the lime pit
at the pauper’s graveyard like Mozart,
then write it in my obituary.
Come on, humor me.

Anyway, it almost happened.

I had walked my walk in Villa Borghese.
Seven laps.
Just me, a jogger and a dog walker.
I was done, leaving the track,
when the bird struck.

He flew into a tall cypress tree.
He screeched something.
I imitated the sound back to him.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Then I twisted my ankle and went down.

It wasn’t just a fall.
It was a collision of human and earth,
the plummeting of a giant oak,
a mother lode of plunging mass,
a galumphing of gigantic proportions.

It was a fall seemingly without end.
The earth had slipped into a timeless warp
and the falling went on and on and on.
It was a slow motion descent involving
all parts of my body, toes to head.
Galumph!

To those who witnessed the event
it must have been shocking to see
me rise immediately after.
For it must have appeared as if
I’d been shot and must surely be dead.

But, up I sprang, aware of scraped palms
stinging knee, and sprained ankle.
I looked around to see who was watching
and furiously began dusting off the grit
covering my pant legs and jacket.
I shook gravel out of my hair.
While so occupied I assessed my condition.
It seemed I could walk.

A man on a bicycle rode up to where I stood.
He eyed me seriously and inquired as to my well being.
I assured him I was fine but in my shock and hysteria
my voice sounded falsely exuberant, as if I fell down
everyday just for the fun of it.

I limped to the nearby bus stop and entertained
thoughts about washing off my bleeding palms
in the fountain pool across the way. But, the thought
of some mutant parasite lurking in the brackish water
deterred me.

Soon the little bus arrived to take me safely home.
Just as I hobbled aboard,
before the doors swished closed,
I heard the distant laugh
of the parrot in the cypress tree.