I freeze,
But don’t
Turn myself
Inside out.

When we get back home we find that
The staircase is covered in umbrellas
Drying sadly like crocked-wing vultures
And I want to beat myself black and blue

But instead

I take one of the bin liners, the strong green ones with handles
And I throw it over and behind myself and use it as a parachute
And I float up and swoop down and up again and over it all again