I was watching the US Open ten nis matches on TV when I got up, putting my whole weight down on my sleeping left foot. I heard it crack. X rays revealed a fractured fifth pin kie metatarsal bone. My first sports in jury. I’m proud of it. But I’m lucky. I’ve always been lucky. The sports med doctor, no surgery, put me in a big black boot like an astron aut’s, and said, whatever else you do, don’t put your left foot down without the boot, not even (ha ha!) on the moon. He did say I may take the boot off by un doing the Velcro straps when I’m in bed. But I might forget to reboot. Especially since I’m a little bit in con tin ent and have to get up every night at least one time to go to the john. TMI. My cautious husband says I’m in discreet, which is, as far as he’s con cerned, just an other form of in con tin ence. He says take baby steps, he says wait, wait un til I’m ready before I put my foot down, which makes me want to put my foot down all the way, to misquote Anne Sexton, who was talking about the sun. Impatient, impetuous, un grateful, mad, i.e. an gry and a little bit in sane, It’s my life, I tell him. Pelicans, I tell him, are mon ogamous for breeding, but in depen dent away from the nest, which is, as far as he’s con cerned, just an other word for in discreet. A poem may rhyme, I tell him, but on ly if it wants to. My foot may be broken but I can walk.