The Ambulance

The Ambulance There is a midnight caller a blue light do a shimmy on the ceiling in my room; mercifully the ambulance didn’t use its siren; a group of women murmur near my door. Dogs, our nocturnal sentinels, nervously whine I know something serious is up, hushed voices and soft slam of doors as they carry old Manuel out on a stretcher, his face is bluish pale. Uneasy silence I take a heart pill, switch on TV, something about six pack abs, young people worrying about and are obsessed with their health and how they look. When I awake, it is morning The TV flickers a mass of white and black dots. Manuel didn`t make it funeral at five. I go back to bed, don’t want to face this day yet; as I dream, the scent of flowers overwhelms me