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
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