I don’t wheel well,
I’m not alright –
when you turn left,
my wheel goes R
I
G
H
T.

It SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

and

S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S
K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K
I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I
D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D
S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S

a          c          r          o          s          s          t          h          e          f          l          o          o          r

ablackmark
j
o
i
n
i
m a n y
o      g
r
pastlinesmade

by stubborn sickness,
as if marks are needed
to bear witness –

I don’t wheel well,
I’m not alright –
when you turn left,
ym leehw soeg T
H
G
I
R.