The acceleration of gravity is 9.875 m/s2
and after 4 beers I’ll fall on Jackson Heights
concrete. My ankle boots cost $30 “on-sale
from 80” and I’ll vow to throw them
in the trash (which I will do, the next day,
hungover). I’ll yell about the “military-
industrial shoe complex.” The ABV is 4.5%
and that didn’t use to do it. I’ll blame
the shoes, and I’ll be on the phone
with my boyfriend, and I’ll let strangers
pick me up. I’m okay, thank you
so much. I’m okay. Thank you. and
one man and I will share a path
to the elevated tracks. He’ll gesture
to his knee, meaning mine,
with question-look concern. I’m okay.
Thank you, thank you. I’ll say. 
And on the phone: 
Did you hear? I fell.