Still Here

Entombed like a tulip bulb
Rolled up with no way out
Buried alive
And if that
Weren’t bad enough
There’s a racket
Like world’s end
Coming from above
Like the lid of the coffin
Will collapse
And I’ll be crushed
As well as smothered
There is a mask
Of hard plastic
Upon my face

I can’t move my arms
My fear level
Is fast approaching panic
I know if I panic
The scant oxygen
Between me and the
Top of the lid
Will escape even faster
I will accelerate my own demise

The tube I have been inserted into
Like the cork of a bottle
Is looking deep into my brain
Bubbles suspended in glass

All the while
My left hand
Is fingering the panic button
The MRI will be
If I become
Overly claustrophobic
Or otherwise find myself
In a panic

All because
I have become deaf
In my left ear
And they don’t know why
Doctors want to ensure
That it isn’t a tumor in my
Brain interfering with my senses

I’ve grown used to it now
I have adapted
I am grateful that I can hear at all
And see and ambulate
Get around, make sound
Make breakfast, make whoopie
Make dinner, make friends

When I listen to my Beatles records
I hear their stereophonic harmonies
In old-fashioned mono
And I still feel a little like
The fool on the hill
Who sees the sun going down
Earlier than ever now
And the world still spinning round