Tuesday, 13 October 2015

I Was Making Great Time (Whilst You Were Busy Dying)

When the paramedics pound your chest, blow air down your throat and do their very best, I slipstream in behind the ambulance in which you rest, and rapidly progress, like a man possessed, carving my way through the parking-lot-like-congest. And when I look into the other windows with all their faces pressed, against the glass, in contorted looks of barely repressed detest - I really must profess - that the greatest thing that happened to me all day was your spontaneous cardiac arrest. I wonder sometimes: am I simply blessed?

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