I am back again; this time there’s something in my eye;
I freak out, -- blindness tops my list of fears and what ifs.
I get to Lourdes in five minutes flat; leave the car unlocked.
The room is brightly lit, but oozes of chlorine, despair,
And something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
I notice that the snack machine is filled with Oreos,
Wise Potato Chips, and various sugared treats.
A Way for the hospital to generate repeat customers?
I can’t help but chuckle in amazement.

I am checked in, and start people watching,
But the night is slow ; everyone is out of town
And will have to be both hurt and treated on the road.
I recognize two of the usual suspects: Jenny Wilkins,
The now forgotten winner of the 1997 Miss Unadilla title;
A little chubbier, but still decent-looking. It’s hard to tell
What brought her here; definitely no gunshot wounds this time, at least.
I smile at her and she smiles back, tired and washed out, in general.
The other familiar face is that guy in the red flannel shirt and overalls.
I usually see him walking down Main Street, carrying a twelve- pack;
Once, back in summer, I found him on the corner of Court and State;
He was dressed as an Elf and kept chanting “Le’ggo my Eggo.”
I did, and kept moving, curious to find out what the hell was going on,
But not brave enough – or crazy enough to stick around.

I am finally called in; it’s been three hours; I spend another hour
Waiting for the nurse in a curtain-lined examination room.
She comes in, exhausted but very friendly and cheery;
She’s Filipino; I chat with her in Spanish; she’s impressed.
She tells me it’s nothing serious; no need to get a guide dog;
I am relieved. She puts some Visine into my eye and gives me
Another bottle of it to go. “Every four hours; as needed,”
She says in English, and pulls back the curtain.
“Thank You,” I say, and before I know it, she’s gone.