Ice and Fleas

Okay, last week's poem actually went really well.  I just rambled streams of words that went through my head and typed them before really thinking about them.  Oddly, it almost made sense.  I doubt I'll have the same luck this week, (considering I typed "lunch" instead of "luck" just now... perhaps I should eat.) but I'm gonna do it again anyways.  It'll be fun.

ICE AND FLEAS

Dried ice,
mangled skin and tired.
Five and dimes
leave children
lying alone on the floor.

If perhaps maybe
it would appear
the same as it always was
then maybe someone
would win this time.

Buttons undone.
Happily he strolls
along the walkway,
never to trip
and fall on his face.

He has good balance.
Better than I have,
that's for sure.