Poems
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Life, Death, & Hospital Dinners

There’s that smell                                 
That pale green laughter
That chokes your throat

Translucent yellow walls
Glowing under florescent lights
That will cut you out of
Tourniquets and into heaven.

The woman with the chipped nails and
Painted smile holds a tray filled
With today’s fate: a slew of pale things
Grey peas, stiff meat, and something they
Call potatoes

Ladled with orange petroleum
And she says, enjoy 
And I thank her
As such a courteous fool does

Ted Bundy got steak
And eggs before he died
Could I have not made the same
Request?

When the mind turns to mush
That’s all They care to feed you

I proceed with futile attempts
To stab at the peas of
Government sympathy

With something that is neither
A spoon, nor a fork
Enjoy, indeed.

But here I sit, propped up by
Starchy pillows not meant for rest
The flowers on the table have turned
Pungent, and the pictures of smiling
People I no longer recognize
Have abandoned me just as my mind
Has them

And I'm sure the ring on my finger
Can be melted down,
and my oak armoire sold,
Do those born into greed die deprived?

I answer my question as
I contemplate the cardinal sins
Of a life once lived over a cup of
Lumpy custard

And it’s not bad enough to die
But to die that last breath full of
The smell of piss and ammonia,
To die with a hunger satisfied 
only by boxed spuds,
And something that was 
meant to be pudding

To die to with the combined melody of
Snores, moans, and the Bay Watch theme song
Coming from the television 
of my curtained neighbor

Don’t you worry, it’s gunna be alright….

Such a cruel comfort

And to think I could have died a thousand
Better ways,
On the shores of some western sea,

Sitting with a cigarette at the Opal Lounge,
In the arms of Glen Ford
On the stage with Fred Astaire

Or even in the bassinet,
With nothing to remember
And with nothing to forget

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