November 16, 2014

Dementia’s wheeled to the window
for the fireworks, like boneless
Beanie Babies slumped in a rear windshield,
dreamers, no-timers, past time.

It’s the Festival of Lights.
A rubber newborn straddles a folded stretcher;
a patient whose face is caving in
keeps time calling, Nurse. Nurse.
A metromoan. (All my senses in misuse.)
On the festive cold drive over
we saw a coyote trot across the road
but maybe it was a fox.