it's a living

he made
his money slipping
on the slight
puddled
spills in grocery
stores.
hitting
the wet spot
just right to send
him flying
upright,
hitting the floor
with a loud scream
and thud,
his milk and cookies,
eggs
and butter
strewn everywhere.
the store always
settled
and he was back on
his feet before
long, out of
the neck brace,
no longer with
the crutches, searching
for a new place
to fall.