Saturday Night Poetry: Falling

When I’m jittery and the words pile up in my head, sometimes I need a little focus. A little prompt. A little card from the magic box of possibilities. I have such a box, which I bought a long time ago from a woman at a writers conference. Sometimes I pluck a card and it speaks to me. This one spoke to me today. Probably because I’ve been staring at this book cover for the last week or so. Today’s prompt is: “As quickly as you can, make a list beginning with the line I remember falling…”

Step off the ledge with me? I can’t promise it will all be good, because I don’t dare call myself a poet, but you might like the way the wind rushes through your hair.

I Remember Falling…

I remember falling for a boy from Liverpool who made me laugh when I needed it most.
I remember falling in love with a lacy purple top I couldn’t afford but purchased anyway.
I remember falling from the up-end of the teeter-totter when the bullies jumped away.
I remember falling for all the wrong reasons and getting up for half of the right ones.
I remember falling savage-hard for a man who wore Aramis and gray flannel suits.
I remember falling out of love with a way of life that I’d been trained to accept as gospel.
I remember falling ass-over-teacups for a blue-eyed boy who tried to break my spirit.
I remember falling fast for a frat guy with a smooth line, an easy smile, and a fiancée.
I remember falling out of line and getting cold-shouldered into girl-world invisibility.
I remember falling for a pair of sharp white shoes that pinched my wallet and my toes.
I remember falling into place while juggling and dancing on the edge of disaster.
I remember falling sideways with the wind into the crook of the devil’s eyebrow.
I remember falling in line until I found the courage to take the last exit in New Jersey.
I remember falling down, getting up, falling down, getting up, lather, rinse, repeat.
I remember falling off my high horse into a steaming pile of my own harsh words.
I remember falling backward into a pair of arms that turned out to be the wrong ones.
I remember falling into unrequited lust with the man a roommate shoved into my closet.
I remember falling out of favor and crying rivers until I realized that it didn’t matter.
I remember falling from grace and getting up as if I’d meant to do that the whole time.