CHARIOT
I can draw in charcoal on your face,
the lines and smudges you've always
been looking for. Here, sit - the fat
guy over there will be parking your
car, and you can sit here for a while.
We use green dishes because I read
it was better than white. Something
about people eat less, or was it more,
off dark colors? That's why most
dishes are white. But I don't know
why, so what am I saying. Would
you maybe like tea? I don't have
proper crumpets, but maybe these
donuts will do. Far be it from me
to dispute your desires, but I really
want you to know that I don't think
heart surgery is needed, no matter
what they tell you. Listen to me, I
can see it in your face you're well
enough. The light from your eyes
is steady and strong, your skin is
taut and lively, no bruises, nothing
dead. Your nails still look young -
not those stubby, yellow grotesques
of the old. No one's really old anymore
anyway; we all just grow younger
and then die. Even babies are due
more respect than that; don't you
think? How's your hearing, can you
hear? What did I say? Are you there?
Ah, well then, your chariot awaits.
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