FicWad

Arrival...

The glass doors swing open,
in perfect sync, precisely
timed so you dont have
to think. Just stroll right in.

I doubt it's quite as easy
to turn around and walk
back outside, retreat to
unstable ground. Home turf.

An orderly escorts me down
spit-shined corridors, past
tinted Plexiglass and closed,
unmarked doors. Mysteries.

One foot in front of the other,
counting tiles on the floor so
I dont have to focus on the blur
of painted smiles, fake faces.

A mannequin in a tight blue
suit, with a too-short skirt
(and legs that can wear it),
in a Betty Boop voice halts us.

I'm Dr. Boston. Welcome to
Aspen Springs. I'll give you
the tour. Paul, please take his
things to the Redwood Room.

Aspen Springs. Redwood Room.
As if this place were a five-star
resort, instead of a lockdown
where crazies pace. Waiting.


At Least...

It doesnt have a hospital
stink. Oh yes, it's all very
clean, from the cafeteria chairs
to the bathroom sinks. Spotless.

But the clean comes minus
the gag-me smell, steeping
every inch of that anitseptic
hell where they excised

the damnable bullet. I
wonder what Dad said when
he heard I tried to myself
six feet under- and failed.

I should have put the gun
to my head, worried less
about brain damage, more
about getting dead. Finis.

Instead, I decided a shot
through the heart would
make it stop beating, rip
it apart to bleed me out.

I couldnt even do that
right. The bullet hit bone,
left my heart in one piece.
In hindsight, luck wasnt

with me that day. Mom
found me too soon, or my
pitiful life might have ebbed
to the ground in arterial flow.

I thought she might die too,
at the sight of so much blood
and the thought of it staining
her white Armani blouse.

Conner, what have you done?
she said. Tell me this was just
an accident. She never heard
my reply, never shed a tear.


I Dont Remember...

Much after that, except
for speed. Ghostly red lights,
spinning faster and faster,
as I begun to recede from

consciousiness. Floating
through the ER doors,
frenzied motion. A needle's
sting. But I do remember,

just before the black hole
swallowed me, seeing Mom's
face. Her furious eyes
followed me into sleep.

It's a curious place, the
Land of Blood Loss and
Anesthesia, floating through it
like swimming in sand. Taxing.

After a while, you think you
should reach for the shimmering
surface. You cant hold your
breath, and even if you could,

it's dark and deep and bitter
cold, where nightmares and truth
collide, and you wonder if death
could unfold fear so real. Palpable.

So you grope your way up into
the light, to find you cant
move, with your arms strapped
tight and overflowing tubes.

And everything hits you like
a train at full speed. Voices.
Strange faces. A witches' stewpot
of smells. Pain. Most of all,

pain.