Back from the Dead

I caught a harsh case of the meningitis
when I was in my early twenties
my brain swelled like a cartoon balloon elephant
and I puked green rainbows and moaned
myself into a delirious Red Hot Chili Peppers
delusional funk until the hospital arrived
and they pumped my body full of anti-biotics
and after three or four days in the quarantine unit
it was like the whole thing had never happened
and I was free to go
just like that, but if this sort of thing had taken place
in the mid 1800 days of stagecoach travel
and wagon trains rushing towards gold
I'd be trail litter by now
a digestible nutrient for some no-named
gaggle of wild cactus or something like that
you would never even have had the chance
to break my heart if that were the case
such as you've been successful in the breaking
because our paths would've been devoid
of such crossings but as it is modern medicine
has shot me forward into a world
of gourmet waffle machines and the short wave
radio of basic cable
ensuring that our meeting will always be our meeting
with our end echoing like a poorly aimed rifle blast
bouncing sound waves across a once un-populated desert
frightening the current residents momentarily
as they casually gas up their dark suburbans
and drive off into a franchised sunset
that is now partly owned by Taco Bell

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