AMBULATORY DELIRIUM
The ones in purple are the orderlies,
the dark blues are the nurses,
and the transporters are beige. The doctors’
scrubs are pale blue and shopworn. The floor’s
pale white to help the cleaners see the stains.
The anesthesiologist interviews me
to hear my lies. “Are you comfortable?
Do you smoke? Recreational drugs?
Can you swallow? Eaten anything?
Loose teeth?”
It’s always the hospital gown that breaks me;
the rest is easy. Foam swabs
on plastic sticks drip with mint disinfectant.
She hands me warm disposable
wash cloths for cleaning my belly — special
emphasis for my button. Can she see lint?
She’s smiles like Vanna on Wheel of Fortune —
keeping it moving. Now I’m allowed some drugs.
Each step gets me closer to my scalpel.
Vincent Bell
12/21/17