Sometimes I feel like an old VW
held together by duct tape and baling wire.
I take six pills every morning.
A protrusion above my heart
small, round, hard as a steel bearing
locates the alien implant
of my pacemaker.
What's left of my natural self?
Who is it that is actually here?
Sometimes I think my funeral
passed by and I missed it.
I know, I know.
Medical technology is wonderful.
So was oil. So were dams.
Short term advances
are wonderful before long
term surprises bring disaster.
All I know is someone in
this body is held together
by tape and wire
pills and bearings
and I want to know
who the hell it is.
I have a message for him.
Beware short term solutions.
