Freddy on the floor

"Hey doc, my flea bites come back," Freddy all wide-eyed, arm all blood and pus and star-spangled blue, frets from his wrist on up like a song sung over again: to the drumbeats of his old man's shoe on his head, to the baseline of his old lady nagging at his dreams, Freddy sang his song on through, now Freddy's on the floor again. "Hey Freddy, this gonna be the last time?" And he smiled and squeezed parched lips in time let a slow hum rise from behind like a ghost, Freddy with no force sang of tears and hope and tears and blow, the beats fell on, the baseline flew I hear Freddy on the floor again. "You gotta hear my song now, doc." The beats fell on, the baseline flew and Freddy's on...
Source: Medical Humanities - Category: Global & Universal Authors: Tags: Poetry and prose Source Type: research