Is there a Deep Woods On? Kinda love mosquitos…
The ambulance lights painted the dead end
of the neighborhood an electrified red,
a flashing, spinning, crying neon hellgate
pulsing like a candy heart, staining all those
faces struck silent and ghost-pale on the pavement
with a harsh blush.
When she fell, there must have been a sound,
though few were around to hear it.
Still, no one heard her fall
until she screamed
from the floor.
Now, the life machines beep in tidy rhythms
back and forth between rooms,
hidden birds chirping little conversations at daybreak.
The room is all quiet browns and hushed blues,
demure friends trying to allow
the color of her skin,
however diluted by age and illness,
to be most prominent.
The hallways seem shady and warm.
A sliver of last night burns in the exit sign outside.
Seriously. Willing to work for peanuts right now, anywhere, for anyone.