Tumbling

tumbling downhill, fast, we laugh
and grasp for lilac boughs, their sweet
smell keeping paranoia linked to
memory, friendly gestures,
a hug, nearly impossible
now, the moisture from a hundred breaths
fog our glasses, we see but yet
not much, with lilac flowers sticking
to lips, each falls smoothly,
a bump or two, and traffic moves
up the hill, too, a practiced cadence
to stoplights, but the fallen cannot
obey, gravity’s essence keeps us
rolling, no time for food, no chairlifts
back to where our families lost us,
and we tumble till we’re dry,
bones broken now, no smiles, just Medicare
and cracks in the system, just deep cuts,
lacerations, tax cuts, with the gasp
of forever in front of us.