the tense of love. of the love borne scalpel. is unnerving. i get it. maybe. you sat by my side. and prayed. in the damp of the friday afternoon. i was in scrubs. munching a bone. and polished flesh. slow down. you said. or you will choke. i smiled at you. i need to return to surgery. my patient has no conscious. his chest spread. rolled up in drapes. tubing through his nose. hisses and puffs break the silence of the room. his lungs collapsed. machinery kings. the universal man. his chest exposed. i should go back. but you ask me to wait. you compliment my smile. and touch my hand. you wouldn't leave. will you be there tomorrow?
i don't know yet. my schedule. so volatile. you lower your head. and stare at my fork. speckled with brie. you pause again and say. my son will be there. his third time. i am scared. will you be there. and say a little prayer. for me? he fears his death. but smiles and laughs. at a dyslexic mother. a father that vanished. but i still wear my band. i never forgave. but i couldn't resist. a war hero. a warrior. he lost an arm. looking for home. he fled. and returned. and fled again. may be he is alive. i couldn't leave. i swore that day. i took an oath. i meant every word. in front of god. i held his hand and i made a promise. i cannot break. i cannot kiss another man. the taste, i cannot forget. nervous peppermint breath. so endearing. forty years ago.
you have a heart. pouring love. and honey and saccharine sentimentality. you carve another. every day. tremulous eyes and nervous lips. you wear your scrubs. a uniform. a calling. come, protect my dream. you don your cap. and seal your breath. a cloth mask strapped across your face. you cover your shoes. look at the mirror. you are ready. before you walk. in through the door. you freeze your world. up at the ceiling. you say a prayer. let them heal. i want to fight. till the last ounce of my capability. so that they live. this is more than a job. this evolution of life. you kill and live. and kill and live. a cyclic normalcy.
a theater district. of mannequin bones and analgesics. organ love. organic. the theater got its name. from the garbed actors. so sterile. you may not breathe. you may not touch. in dilemma of the arts. in this theater. the cast of flesh. in its monumental primacy. is before your own. you swivel not. in a cold january morning. when your diamond of nine. miscarried your paternity. you delivered then. this paradox. you live. and cry in the storm. or behind the doors. where no one sees. no one hears. taped in silence. the life of scrubs. in a dream theater. yours is a calling of life.
i don't know yet. my schedule. so volatile. you lower your head. and stare at my fork. speckled with brie. you pause again and say. my son will be there. his third time. i am scared. will you be there. and say a little prayer. for me? he fears his death. but smiles and laughs. at a dyslexic mother. a father that vanished. but i still wear my band. i never forgave. but i couldn't resist. a war hero. a warrior. he lost an arm. looking for home. he fled. and returned. and fled again. may be he is alive. i couldn't leave. i swore that day. i took an oath. i meant every word. in front of god. i held his hand and i made a promise. i cannot break. i cannot kiss another man. the taste, i cannot forget. nervous peppermint breath. so endearing. forty years ago.
you have a heart. pouring love. and honey and saccharine sentimentality. you carve another. every day. tremulous eyes and nervous lips. you wear your scrubs. a uniform. a calling. come, protect my dream. you don your cap. and seal your breath. a cloth mask strapped across your face. you cover your shoes. look at the mirror. you are ready. before you walk. in through the door. you freeze your world. up at the ceiling. you say a prayer. let them heal. i want to fight. till the last ounce of my capability. so that they live. this is more than a job. this evolution of life. you kill and live. and kill and live. a cyclic normalcy.
a theater district. of mannequin bones and analgesics. organ love. organic. the theater got its name. from the garbed actors. so sterile. you may not breathe. you may not touch. in dilemma of the arts. in this theater. the cast of flesh. in its monumental primacy. is before your own. you swivel not. in a cold january morning. when your diamond of nine. miscarried your paternity. you delivered then. this paradox. you live. and cry in the storm. or behind the doors. where no one sees. no one hears. taped in silence. the life of scrubs. in a dream theater. yours is a calling of life.
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