Sad Accidents
written by: Ian Patt
You walk along cracked pavement parallel to the creek.
Nutria and strands of Himalayan Blackberry peek over
the bank and gnats drift across the dusk.
Families pedal past on geared bikes with flip-flopped feet;
they smile and wave in succession,
swerving whenever one hand leaves the wheel.
You feel no compulsion to check your phone—
not the bank account,
the chess app,
or the work email.
A little-league game develops at the end of the park;
you watch a ten-year-old kid wave at strike three—
which is the funniest sad thing you have witnessed in weeks.
Tomato vines and zucchini sprout from cold dirt,
and you remember how the man at the 4-H extension office laughed
when you asked for tips on growing watermelon in zone 3.
You ordered expensive seeds online
and scraped together a hill in one of the raised beds.
One of the seeds sprouted—enough to make you proud—
and the melon plant got to be so tall—
two feet!
Your mom and sister came over and you showed
them your two-foot watermelon plant—
they laughed like the man at the extension office,
and you continued doting—
your efforts yielding squat—
until your watermelon
unfurled a golden crown.
She was a sunflower all along.
- Sad Accidents - May 29, 2026
