LEVEL B

three of us
in
store room hospital level B
rain 
touching 
finger smeared panes and memories

ones a physiologist
calls a patient
on
the 
landline
bad readings on his thingummy
can you get in this afternoon?

ones an auditor
scans pacemaker barcodes
taps a silver netbook
mutters in welsh

me leaning back on a busted office chair
till
i
see
wonky pitted ceiling tiles
fiddle with my collar

and we all got balls
and we all got hard livers
and we all got mild perversions
and we all one day will die
and
this
room
too
will one day
be
only
dust

image; ingoldthoughts, wordpress