After his future brother- in- law's
bachelor bash at the Taj Mahal,
Mike abandoned the boys.
Couldn't find his room key,
couldn't find his car key either.
So he slept on his Honda's hood.
Rolling over, he slid four floors
to the concrete below.
Caught on film, he was smiling.
Maybe he fancied himself Louganis,
jack-knifing into the hotel pool,
or Weissmuller diving out of a tree.
But then he looked surprised,
saddened, a flying Wallenda
missing his sister's outstretched hand
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