I don't operate often. When I do, <br />persons take note. <br />Nurses look amazed. They pale. <br />The patient is brought back to life, or so. <br />The reason I don't do this more (I quote) <br />is: I have a living to fail— <br /> <br />because of my wife & son—to keep from earning. <br />—Mr Bones, I sees that. <br />They for these operations thanks you, what? <br />not pays you. —Right. <br />You have seldom been so understanding. <br />Now there is further a difficulty with the light: <br /> <br />I am obliged to perform in complete darkness <br />operations of great delicacy <br />on my self. <br />—Mr Bones, you terrifies me. <br />No wonder they didn't pay you. Will you die? <br />—My <br /> friend, I succeeded. Later.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-67-i-don-t-operate-often-when-i-do/
