We left the stench of bodies, heat
of city afternoon, glare of glass, brute shape;
we left the clatter, horn, and screech… dull
ache in shoe, under hat. We left raw throat,
stale cigarette, cold pizza…
Or so we thought. We read the papers even
if we have no car, no telephone, no television.
All around us acquaintances tell of their new friend:
the desktop computer we just bought!
We only thought we had withdrawn; the cave turned into
prep room and we are left waiting, enervated,
sunk in age and sterile horror while the patient
ran off with the nurse. The prognosis was not good.
They’ll be back but we’ll be gone.

Originally appeared in Seditious Delicious, Winter 1984 (#1)

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