He rode home from the emergency ward on his bike,
freewheeling.
It had been weird seeing him there
in the hospital bed,
not allowed anywhere,
tubes going everywhere.
He had gone to extremes,
an old expeditioner
still at it.
You must be familiar with these places,
and their strangeness,
people hovering in some sick versions of themselves,
waiting for change.
.
I thought I was on to something,
that something had gelled.
I am beset,
stuck in a white coat
introspecting and dissecting
with scissors and glue.
You know.
Living is the real art.
.
.
Here’s a link to an animated version.