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.