Upon Waking Up With Cracked Ribs

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White sheets. White curtains. White walls.
Hospitals are full of bland.
Gene fingers the button to call the nurse.
Where are his clothes? Should he take them?
Then what, home to Dad?
Not likely.
Decisions overwhelm him.
Can’t decide anything with a fuzzy head.
Gene rolls over. Sleeps. Lets the Social Services lady
have her way.

I can’t get at the file where Suzie’s House is right now, but I can still write a little something about it. So this is for my regular readers. Sorry about the hold ups.