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A glorious
thunderstorm!
In patient rooms,
blue plastic buckets
catch rain and
some joker is
singing out
of his croak box,
buzzing My Way
over the low hum
of oncology.
Three shows nightly
till his batteries die.
Elsewhere,
the sad doctor
interrupts the delicate
brain surgery
to kiss the pretty nurse and
a kid with something bad
laughs so hard
at his friend's fart
the cold milk rushes
out his nose.
Patient X awakes!
Like on TV, she's
got amnesia
and a lifetime
left to wonder
what she was doing
walking that road
alone at night.
Were there fireflies?
Little frogs singing in the gully?
Was she unhappy?
Were there stars?
Beside every deathbed waits a chair
and the blue plastic monkey
ready to shine his bright flashlight
in your eyes as he shrieks the names.
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