The doctor says what ails? I say 'Doctor
I want a heart, and arms to hold and a place
for that to be. I want silver, and I want gold.'
He sits down to ponder. I watch the red water
in his waxy mindless desktop toy. Yes, it's
come to this. Oh boy. He looks back up and
says. 'I can do for you only what I've done
for others.' I look forward. 'And what is that?'
I ask. He scratches a small cartoon, as if it were
an itch, and says, 'Well, I can't very well transplant
just what you want, they do not make that yet. I can
instead give you good cheer. You will probably
live another year.'