mmdcclxxx

Hearts & Backpacks

This lacks poetry,
but I’m sitting on
the same bed (or
the same spot) in 

the same emergency
room where Otto
(How long has it
been since I wrote
that name?) had
his heart failure
diagnosed.  You’d
think if your heart
failed it would be
easy to diagnose,
but as it turn out....
Anyway, my heart
is no longer failing
as it’s already gone.
Sorry, couldn’t re-
member. And maybe
that’s just wistful
thinking.  But 

as it turns out,
there have been
a lot of wists to
dwell upon or
inside of lately.
Like earlier today
(wist) when yet an-
other half of all of
the belongings I
possess from my
fifty-one years

of living
were stolen
away from my
clinging arms
while I was a-
sleep in a park

getting sunburnt.
This kind of thing
seems to happen
so often that I’ve
begun to think of it
as clichè (which I
keep thinking is
“so clichè!”)....
Anyway, so I
(presented to
you as nothing
but myself, who
is “so cliché”...)
was asleep in
the park this morning... ... ...