From the store where I'd gone for to buy,
Into a trailor I strode,
But I uttered not one single cry.
My head came in contact with metal,
And my forward motion was stopped,
I staggered back, filled with regrettal,
And onto the pavement I plopped.
As my head hit the ground and stopped moving,
My PacMate just forged on and flew,
The sound of the crash wasn't soothing,
Oh just what was I supposed to do?
I lay there in utter frustration,
Hoping nothing was broken or wrecked,
But in summing up my situation,
There was nothing too wrong, I suspect.
So my butt hurts like crazy at present,
But I'm otherwise really unscathed,
And my PacMate's just fine,
Can't think of no rhyme,
But that is okay,
For I've no more to say.