Friday afternoon freedom —
repent for your sins of the week.
 
1am: leaving the operating room.
Dead colon, did the best you could.
Thursday, four people who trust you repeatedly with their asses.
Wednesday, phone calls and paperwork between patients.
Tuesday, cancer doesn’t wait, it invades.
Monday morning, scorning the help with your despair.
There isn’t enough gratitude in the world to fix your attitude.
 
No feeling like walking out of the hospital on a sunlit day.
Dusk at bay, the only thought being:
run away, as fast as you can.
Lose yourself on well drinks and the drafty patio,
Nachos on the table, loud patrons nearby…