Thursday, December 6, 2007




We hasten along three-a.-m. streets,
robot stoplights changing,
which feels like a waste of time
since we’re the only traffic.
The dimly lit hospital’s
emergency room entrance is
lit like opening night.

Days of probing
while you swim in morphine.

Soon it seems quite routine
to have a catheter,
and IV’s dripping,
and a plastic bag
hanging down or strapped
upon your thigh.

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