FALL

     I was walking up the hill in Providence + I was looking at the asphalt + I was looking 
     at the leaves + I was looking at my boot + my eyes fell out.

     The asphalt was molten navy + then there was cement + a stone border to the 
     sidewalk, the kind of stone that would glitter in the sun except the ground was wet 
     + the leaves were plastered to it, some curled away as if to say no, not yet + my 
     eyes fell out again. 

     I was looking at my own long leg + front, my small green swinging purse + 
     brolly +  the stream of  eyes descending — more like an escalator than a fall, 
     or a screensaver, or a lot of eyes falling down in lines like rain if you can 
     imagine that.