In the Hospital
In the hospital of the city
Where I’d never lived I sat
Next to a patient I’ve
Never operated on and looked out
A shuttered window at the
Car I didn't own parked in a vast
Meadow of asphalt that wasn’t there.
The patient was trying to speak to me
In a language that sounded like heavy
Machinery in need of an oil change
You don’t get it, I tried to say, in an overly loud voice
Like an arrogant American speaking to foreigners
Trying their best to help me
When I woke up, all the lawyers were there
Shuffling papers and checking their watches.
They looked at me like I was a character
On a TV screen who had wandered onto the set
And forgot he didn’t have any lines.
It was impossible to change the channel
Even though I wanted them to.
So I sat for a while and watched the news
While my old patient fitfully snoozed
Hours after the difficult operation
I had assured him would make him feel better
But surely had not.
Once I was certain I wasn’t being watched
I felt for a pulse that had long since stopped
And counted the number of skipped breaths.
When he suddenly opened his eyes and spoke
Very clearly of children and wives
Using names that sounded
Extracted from a science fiction novel.
When his family arrived they called for the nurse
Who arrived momentarily.
They were righteously aghast—
How long has he been like this?
Why does he speak to a ghost?
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