Essay: Walking on My Hands in Columbus, Ohio

I’m too old to walk on my hands: bad back, shoulder half shot. But I woke up this morning so damned happy, I had to take an imaginary turn around the room–my feet high above my head, waving at the trolls who live inside the hotel furniture.

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto