The world upside down

There are those who see the world from a privileged  point of view

there is no question of their balance being askew;

our world may be spinning to keep us in our shoes

our brains may be spinning to keep us from the blues;

What argument may there be to think, conceive, instrument ourselves to

hear like a bat, walk like a beetle or swim like an otter?

Is it not enough to see a Balkan ballerina do a grand jeté? 

Or a Greek geek tweet about green thé?

On this unbenounced day

Not having seen a bump at the end of an extravagant run

 my ski and leg was sent to

the outer limits of an inner city slum

Pain hooted through my ears

and my orbs knew only tears

My ham, my only jambone, that string that belongs to the mighty Thigh,

was plucked harder than any violin string

shredded like cuban ropa vieja

recoiled like a cobra

Not knowing how to react 

I invoked the  rhino scarab  to accompany me in my upside down world!

I opted (if a choice there ever was), to slide down the face of the mer de glace,

 head first down a sled

wrapped up with straps and inflatables

 "A little outing to meet your clay maker."

-that's what Osiris, the speedy sled pilot said.

Once more I thought of the ectoderm of a Rhino Beetle

It was a way to make pain impermeable to the bumps that we overslode

The ride was long and true, soft on top and icy on the bottom.
And all the way down people peeped at me as if I had
some mental disease
"What an appetizing sight! Pity no blood!"
I felt damned as to why, an impassioned  cycler like myself, why did

I choose to ski? Was it, could it, be all for that special view?

And then for no reason at all, I though of my grandfather who I had never met

He, like many, was taken away from our family tree because of the war.

60 years later dear mother gives my his hankies from an unbeknownst coffer

So while I am sliding and forgetting the pain thanks to the rhino beetle

I am flabbergasted at how beautiful and delicate the DZ monogramed handkerchiefs are

despite the passing of time

despite the outpouring of hatred that went towards Zoltan Denes and people of his like,

the fine stitching and squared colors defy their period

These pre-kleenex utensils 

Memory receptors of what flowed through the nose

Today are history in the making.
They attest to the invincibility of mankind.

Back to my drama I flowed down my own white, mucusoid mountain

relaxed, serene, as a rhino in the sky.