He began raising himself
Pushing and pulling until
he was able to reach for the railing
till standing, but lost his grip
His head came within inches of me
I saw the grimace spread across his face
head bounced against one and another stair
I looked into his bloodied face wondering
if he felt pain.
Eyes looking nowhere in particular
with a sickly smile frozen on his face
he said to me or no one in particular
“Damn I slipped and spilled my damn beer.
Where’s my beer?”
Blood oozing from seven or eight
cuts and scrapes on his face. A mess.
more blood than could be wiped away
Crawling away, “better not do that again,”
he slowly mumbled.