Aha.

Smack.
So simple,
a real certainty;
really a real certainty.
Certainly a certainty
worth uncrossing my
fingers for - worth blowing
raspberries into the wood grain.

He steps precariously, yet
would meet the floor
solidly upon falling.
Meeting as solids;
for now and eventually.
Ever wary steps towards meetings
spread out in the wood grain.
Just admit it.

You are weak at the knees,
and attracted to the wood floor.
You watch your feet with
equal parts suspicion and hope.
You catch it rising up to meet you
in your peripheral vision and giggle a little.
You can already smell the Pine-Sol
filtering through your bloody broken nose.
You are already blowing raspberries
as you stumble.