From his bike before me

he fell to the asphalt with even more involuntary flaying

of the arms and legs and head than usual, bloodied hand,

determined to continue,

but was persuaded to leave his bicycle against the Kindergarten fence.

Kids taken care of, I overtook him on his spasmodic way, called him

to jump in and he did, acrobatically, from long experience.

‘Where to?’

In spasmodic deutsch: ‘Straight on – to Rewe, as it turned out, next door, to be precise,

to an ATM which he manipulated himself amidst flying cards and portemonnaie and bewildered early drawers.

La morale de l’histoire: If you pick up a fallen spasmodic you have to take him home.

Or: a sign of things to come?