Like a perpetual motion toy
Which clacks and cracks
Switching back and forth
Yet goes nowhere
In this Waiting Room.
The burning in my chest cooks
The fire in my arm spreads, blazing
Through my fingertips. I hold my hand up
As a flare-chandelier.
I am illuminated for
Staff to see
As I puke
On floor and watch it spread
Out in pools of helplessness before
Iron clad rules of first come/first served.
I’m screaming “Heart attack!”
But no one hears the garbling over
Roar of flames and storm of ash as
Fire consumes my pleading body.
A janitor arrives to renew
The sanctity of sullied floor.
He looks at me and frowns. He turns
To the receiving trolls guarding
Their bridge, coffee cups in hands.
“This guy is having a heart attack.”
The cannon ball weight of his words sink
Quickly to the floor of the ER.
The staff become as firemen