Down the Ramp

Found a wide, stiff sycamore leaf sitting dry on the front stoop. Slipped past the heavy glass door into the cool air. Stared down the smooth, painted concrete slope of the access ramp for a while. Placed the leaf right on the edge. Sat down square in the middle, paws flat on my knees. One dull push with my left heel. Slid. A steady, dry scraping hum against the incline all the way down. Coasted to a halt right at the sidewalk curb. Didn't tip over. Looked at the trees across the street for a minute. Then I stood up, dragged the stem behind me, and shuffled back to the top for another go.