I accidentally the street.
I accidentally the sidewalk.
I accidentally the stairs.
I accidentally ate mold.
I accidentally ate moldy bread.
I accidentally build a shelf.
All of these things I have done without intention — accidentally.
To be sure.
I accidentally know your meme.
Your meme seems like a nice sort of fellow, by the way.
And, to the woman I accidentally punched,
I accidentally domed your son.
How sorry I am — I hope your son becomes undomed soon.
I accidentally ate gluten — except I didn’t.
The devourment was quite on purpose, I can assure you.
Accidentally on purpose, I am accidentally in love.
In love, accidentally, with happy accidents —
not deserving of my accidental affections.
Incidentally, accidentally, occidentally,
I, coincidentally, practice dentistry.
Occurring unexpectedly, unintentionally, or by chance —
Accidentally and fundamentally I developmentally dance.
Accidentally I had an accident of unintended sort
which I was unable to abort. (Even, as it turns out, had I been able to see it coming)
An accident, I fear, that landed me in court
and of which I was unable to effectively thwart
though my time was cut short
I knew my last resort
if I were able to comport
or, at least, my escort would purport
that those with whom I consort
were much lower than a wart
and players of a silly sport
not worthy of support.
So, I accidentally the sidewalk.
Accidentally, and on purpose.