Gorgeous Morning

This was the story he told,
Exactly as he told it—
He got off the bus to work

And walked across the campus
Downtown, just after sunrise,
And noticed the peachy sky

And the gold light off the dome
In the original quad,
And then he was on the ground,

Crumpled like wadded paper,
Simultaneous crunching
In both knees and his right wrist.

And that was it. He rolled up
Into a sort of sitting
Position and sat there dazed,

No one crossing the quad yet
And him unable to stand.
He just had to wait, then look

Harmless when someone walked by.
This was the city, before
Cellphones. Bearded, he could be

A professor or some bum.
He tried to ignore the pain
Of his multiple fractures,

Enough to appear sober
And sane, not delirious,
Non-threatening. He waited.

The morning sun cleared the dome.
He made a note to never
Trust gorgeous mornings again.