I sat on the bed in the hospital, dressed in a new pajama-
shiny and with dragons on-my wife had bought just for this
hospitalization, reading a newspaper, the surgeon came in,
said halloo; told me his team was the best, reassuring smile
told me not to worry. A girl, in blue came, served me soup
and there was a sign on my bed that the patient should have
no breakfast. Triple bypass, I struggled to think of something
grim like the hereafter and god, but was more alarmed about
this stupid war in Iraq. At dawn, they gave me a pill, I read
a poem I had written about Marilyn Monroe which I liked;
then for hours, I was suspended in dreamless nothingness.
When I awoke, I had lost the last trace of any religious beliefs.
