Ward-3

Seated in this chair;my mattress
now breathing,reimbursement
in the fact that not one person
died in my room this week.There
was the unusual flailing of the
arms,and some difficult groans
by the man who shits by his bed.
But ward-3 made it through
last night as well.I hear there
were 2 next door- you wouldn't
really call them neighbours. Because
for once they are unwilling to
receive your mail,or hold your
keys.You don't want postmen
making mistakes at the hospital.
It is midnight;men and women
dart in opposite directions,other
side of the window.The random
appearance of a person who
looks like-isn't scooting to save
a life,is actually,relieving.For two
hours that has not happened,and
I think it is awfully unquiet elsewhere.
Besides,you do not find aggressively
apathetic visitors,outside a bar,
in the middle of the night.Here,the
moon,the night,the dawn matter only
in a passive sense.Mornings in
ward-3 will see attendants,return
to their jobs.Hopefully,from exile.