My Own Pocket 

Not someone's else.  Esle's.  Close enough.  Too close, even--a hair's breadth.  That's hard to say.  You wouldn't say breath, though, you wouldn't leave out the D. 

Typos happen, but the lungs are not located in the head.  You don't inhale, much less let air out, through a coiffure.  You also don't needlessly alarm passersby. 

If the rib was broken, if only the rib was, then that's okay.  To put in your pocket.  To put aside.  To take out of your side.  Your own side.  Not someone's-- 

Afterwards, a shoulder popped of its socket.  We were all over at the beach,  remember?  We had ski poles, which escalated our demise.  

Forever is not that roomy, white and salty as the sand, the kind that's  embedded in the pink skin of a scalp.  Do you also remember throwing a football? 

Next, time, let's, leave, out, the, commas.  A'n'd' a'p'o's't'r'o'p'h'e's.