Hit by a Bus
That’s how he’d like to go, he tells me, not by this slow seeding of liver and spine, not with all the tears and long good-byes.
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he tells me, not by this slow
seeding of liver and spine,
not with all the tears and long
good-byes. Yet he works
fifty hours, doesn’t feel sick,
even ran five miles before
our appointment. He tells me
he’s in training for a warrior
marathon next summer,
a fundraiser for the cure,
that he works out with the Stones
in his earbuds, legs pumping
to the beat, laughing that
he still can’t get no satisfaction,
refusing to believe you can’t
always get what you want.
