like a crumbled-up piece of paper, discarded because of all its mistakes, then tossed into the waste basket with the look of disgust on his face. He dropped me like a hot iron that had burnt his delicate hand, because it wasn’t so well protected. I was Kryptonite to the superman. He dropped me like a name at a party,
erudite and sagacious. I made my rounds unmasked among his comrades, real fast. He dropped me like a baby when it’s faced down in the birthing position. He pushed me out with a catapulting contraction. I was covered in blood by the birth. But he never cut the cord. I still wear it around my neck; swear I almost choked to
death on it. He dropped me like a water balloon falling from of a three- story window. When it lands it goes “splat” and breaks apart from the high impact. He dropped me like a banana peel. You slipped on it. When you fell, was it you who caught me, or I who caught you? We both laughed at the foolish things people do.