Hospital Diaries - Verse 3

Destruction in Myanmar, Attack in Plattsburgh, Mother's Day is Coming

And the world goes on around you. Your nurse has an earring in her nose. She is so nice. Good hair, too. You're still sharing space with the drug runner. Badges shining up and down the slick halls. We left the baby's milk in the refrigerator. You left your memories back in some other decade. Who are you signaling to? you ask your wife. I know, you answer your own question. Put that in the chart. You're signaling to the engineer. (Get us off this train). Who is that man that walks the tracks? Who is he? Who is he? God damn it, who is he? Nurse. My wife and I would like to know. Who is that man that walks the tracks? Picking up garbage. We look good together, you tell your wife. When my hair is combed. All the while the girl sat by your bed, she knew what you were thinking. It is no surpirse now. Walking. Standing. Eating. Getting out of here. No surprise. If it were only this easy to heal. She might have walked the tracks and picked up a stethoscope long ago. Get well soon. Walk out into the ether of the parking garage. Wonder, who is he?

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Seriously. Can this ever be poetry?