Stigmata

You awaken in the darkness
And set out to break your fast before work
The floppy toe of your worn-out shoe
Catches on an uneven sidewalk seam
You stumble and tumble down
Unable to catch yourself
The knees of your pants rip open first
Then the skin on your knees and palms
Gives way
To the rough craggy slab of ancient concrete
You do your best to staunch the blood
With the cuffs of your shirt
Then limp on to the fast food place
You grab some napkins at the beverage bar
And continue to dab at the blood
You take a place in line and notice
The girls at the counter
Are looking in your direction
Like there must be someone
With two heads in your proximity
You look behind you with excited anticipation
When a young man wearing a name tag
That just reads “manager”
Approaches and asks you to leave
Saying they don’t serve your kind there