School was out
It had to be Summer
Back then the seasons were as defined
The Chicago breeze wafted through pigtails like no other air
I looked out the sunroom window at my friends playing in the park and had to get there

My sister was supposed to stop flapping jacks and walk me across the street
Instead when mama went locked back in her room sister traded spots with me in the sunroom
Looking at me cross the street

She had to have stepped away
Burning butter maybe
Morning sickness maybe
All my friends were leaving walking the long way I could not
All I saw plowing across the playground was a giant white barking blob
I hated dogs
It was going to eat such a tiny thing
I looked up at the window for guidance not a sister was seen

DO NOT RUN LAKITA
I heard God clear
Guess who ran
Lakita
I ran with my fear

Before my big toe could touch the curb back home
A green 1970 something smacked my body high as the light pole
Then low as the grass
Blood soaking my socks mouth and teeth
Tongue split in half
Right leg bent behind me
Unconscious consciences by default and ambulance lights
Don’t tell my mama
She don’t allow me to cross
Her tears mixed with mine and I was out

Wheelchair
Crutches
Stitches
Liquid lunches

My daddy say at least their ears got a tiny break

I learned to be patient and invent all types of imaginative play
I learned to ask God to protect me and no matter what allow me to do my best to follow what I hear God say