Monday, August 7, 2023


 Discharge Instructions

You may have clear liquids today 

And nothing but salted meats tomorrow

You may lap from a bowl, sip from a hat

You may go outside and wander aimlessly 

In the morning in the evening but never at noon

There will be no more needles in veins

No blood pressure cuffs

No stickers stuck to your chest

You may piss wherever you like

You may experience a tingling behind the eyes 

A gutting sense of loss each time your mind

Releases another thought. 

You may eat with your eyes closed 

You may hot shower

You may swim in a lake

Of slippery insouciances

You may shave 

You may smile in lieu of lucencies 

You may lick or hug or kiss

You may ice cream after dinner 

You may hold hands

You may never let go

You must eat the cone 

You may lift a baby in one hand

While finger snapping to the beat

Of Manu Dibango in the other

The medicine won’t stop you

From remembering that everyone dies 

You must wash it all down with milk

You may call the doctor after hours

For fevers or flashes of ignorance
You may ask him to repeat the instructions

You may not ask any questions

Whose answers are lies


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