76 - One more might tip it. joneworlds@mailbox.org And when she turned, all aboard the buggy, all seventeen cans and five hand bags swinging wild, wild as the damage of the ages of hers. There once were ten ponies, long ago, before the down began. Her ten ponies and a joke and a laugh and return again to the ponies, there the comfort is, back then when she was small, and the comfort found around the rows is still there, just a little. And it all just piles on and on, the damage done, and you can't count the wounds and the wounds and remember the ponies, what was it mom and Aron would say? You can't come back there now, no we just can't. And there, it's there, the nucleus and the kernel, though now just as then it's hard to live without the food touching your lips. After a day and a day and a day and a lifetime of all of it, one more might tip it, and that one is you.