Hospitaltown

He mainly lives in Hospitaltown
but he visits on the weekends.

Hospitaltown is a lot like Manhattan
abuzz with conversation
cell phones, computers, machinery.
A swirling eddy of technology
and fast decisions.
Patience is expensive.
Eating is expensive.
Sleep is expensive.
The pay barely covers
the cost of living this way.

Saturdays and Sundays, he visits me
in the country.

There is no buzz in the country, no beeping, no machinery.
Phones are quiet.
Meals are events.
Sleep is so cheap even the computers do it.

In that silence,
we converse
we touch
we learn each other
in tiny steps
measured in weekends.

Sunday evening brings a dull sadness,
a sound like a roller coaster car
clicking to the top of a hill.
Click. Click. Click.
Like the ticking of a distant clock
all of the tension
without the giddy anticipation.
From the top of the hill
the next Saturday is so far away.

A kiss goodbye.
A quiet understanding that his chaos begins again.
He drives away
back to the buzz, the phones, the machinery.
I wrap myself in quiet
and get back to work.

I will see him in 6 days
when he returns to the country.

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One thought on “Hospitaltown

  1. Pingback: Hospitaltown Revisited « Four-Door Handbasket

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