Medicine

I have bandaged the wounds and wings of street princes and ghetto Kings. I have been a lighthouse warning junkies and winos whose light they do not see. I feel like a pac- man being chased by old patients and the IRS as I battle for my soul and a joystick on this night shift in a clinic I see the uplift of umbilical cords reconnecting the dying to heaven, death seems like a bargain to insurance companies. I could bandage the clocks to protect the eyes of those departing, their faces always return to me they always return.