VOCATION
I've got your stethoscope down my
throat. I choke! Can you help me none?
Walk away, pile-driving half-man, while
another fellow from your medicine expires.
I can only think of your face on your
mother's mantle; that stupid photograph
from when you were young : that cowboy hat,
those spurs, that vest. Like some medicine-man
in the old out-west, you stagger around in new
clothes, too proud of anything at all. I remember
as well how they used to call it a 'vocation' - that
summons to be a doctor or a priest. And what
a crock was all that - stupid words for stupid
people, back when such things as religion and
service too had a meaning that spoke. Now
it's all just empty twaddle. I choke.
I've got your stethoscope down my
throat. I choke! Can you help me none?
Walk away, pile-driving half-man, while
another fellow from your medicine expires.
I can only think of your face on your
mother's mantle; that stupid photograph
from when you were young : that cowboy hat,
those spurs, that vest. Like some medicine-man
in the old out-west, you stagger around in new
clothes, too proud of anything at all. I remember
as well how they used to call it a 'vocation' - that
summons to be a doctor or a priest. And what
a crock was all that - stupid words for stupid
people, back when such things as religion and
service too had a meaning that spoke. Now
it's all just empty twaddle. I choke.
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