October

I run in a circle. Shivering. Then I ran outside. “It’s not warmer there,” they laugh. I try to climb the fence again. It’s October at the hospital. They keep it cold. Although they don’t have ice for our water. Shivering, while holding a cup. I can’t sleep, and I missed dinner. I miss my mom more. They let us have paper. Sometimes we get a magazine or a crossword puzzle. I pretend I’m writing a grand story. I tell it to the other patients. Some understand, some are lucid enough to scoff at me. Paper and crayons are safe. It is safe here. They promised. I got a paper cut, anyway. Lights out. Shivering again. It’s no warmer out there. I think they’re right… It’s October and it’s sinking in. But at least out there… I could live. As a scarecrow on a post or something. And it would be windy and cold. I’d still feel better. Wearing my overalls like scarecrows do. Moaning and groaning like scarecrows do. I might die someday. I would hate to be a janitor here. The janitor turns around. “It’s not warmer anywhere.” It’s November in the hospital. They told me so.