As I watched you emerge bearing a silver platter
with sacramental poise, I thought, the eternal altar boy,
whereas I tried to conceal my visit with the pretext of bread.
Still each to the same banquet came in our disparate ways.
A counterpoint to the vagaries of the day, a patient slumped
in the back seat of my car after her monthly ECT
and I respond to your unvoiced question defensively
that no nurse Ratchet am I despite the obvious parallel.
Your curiosity gives no respite, least to you.
My unkempt hair added years to my years while
I chided myself that this was no time for such vanities
but I caught a glimpse, crisscrossing the parking lot
that day of the absurd patterning of our lives
marching as it were in oblique unison.