How Many Angels Does One Girl Get?

rock on switch backs
Near Misses, and Someday Posts

I wasn’t hurt in Detroit Race Riots of ’67
even when we broke curfew . . . to have a happy parade

I was not lost in the blizzard of  ’65
although I was lost to love in the blizzard of ’78

No brakes, no fear. Bernie saved us in ’73 barreling
down Mary’s Mountain headed back to Boulder, Colorado

And again on I-94, skidding across five lanes, ’77, my little niece
in the backseat, oblivious as a 5-year-old should be. The traffic all disappeared

Did not fall off the prohibited roof of Detroit’s RenCen in ’78
perhaps there should have been some punishment, however.

I exited the car unscathed, climbing out the window
locked brakes and upside down on Southfield in ’79

Grand Canyon’s North Rim at night, batteries dead in the flashlight
high and hiking, Mark and I found our way back to camp in ’83

Ron retrieved the journal that I left in the taxi in Guatemala City in ’85
running  through five blocks of crazy hot mid day traffic

The park ranger brought us Deet when millions of mosquitoes
landed upon our campsite, out of nowhere, Georgia, ’88

Riana’s brain was not altered after seizing in ’93
17 minutes of shaking and only 17 months old

Bridget found her way at dusk when she veered from the trail in Bariloche
certain she couldn’t get lost, for two hours, in ’14

The boulder as big as a VW bug fell from the cliff
halfway between my round trip commute in ’16

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