In the sky

by Mike Vance

Tears, projectile weeping, my eyes puke

The triage, the moments of truth

After two hours the nurse comes by

and closes the curtain

I lay there and shake while I squirm

Finally, the doc comes in

The poking and probing (ah fuck!)

The incisions are made, he pries open the wounds

Puss erupts from my frail arms

I watch with twisted fascination

Gasp. (What the fuck?)

Three paramedics close me in

As I snap out of death’s hand

I look down, my shirt is cut down the center

What the hell is this about?

You were dead

You OD’d

OK, but how did I get clear over here

from way over there?

Just be quiet son

You’re coming with us

Just get me some mac-n-cheese so I can go home.

I stumble from the hospital scrubs and all

and went to the liquor store

Goddamn, did I think I was tough?

Kathie, we’d like you to come down

and identify your son

Sorry ma’am

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