The last time the doctors gave up 	
I put the pieces together   				
and bought him a blue wool jacket, a shirt 
and a tie with scribbles of magenta,
brown buckle shoes. I dressed him
and sat him down
with a hankie in his pocket folded into points.
Then a shell knit slowly 
over his sad starched heart.

He'd laugh and dangle his long legs and call out,
What a fall that was!
And I'd sing the refrain,		 			   
What a fall!

And now he's at my door again, begging 
in that leaky voice, 
and I start wiping the smear
from his broken face.