Sitting here in this coffee shop

left arm wrapped in a sling

dirty 

post-surgery bandages

still stuck to my shoulder

aches and pains

well earned this time

torn pectoralis tendon

off the humerus bone

X-ray and MRI 

and eventually 

a bout with anesthesia 

and a surgeon

with a steady hand (hopefully)

and power tools

I don’t know what he did

in there

haven’t spoken to the fella 

since our thirty-second pre-op

encounter

too nervous for a good memory

he drew a sloppy line above

my armpit

I woke up feeling 

silly

medium pain

the nurse was happy

to see me 

awake

heavy sleepers 

like me

make them nervous 

Liquid pain pills 

out of plastic cup

made me slur all the way

home

the next days are slow

and overshadowed

pain has a way of casting shade

eventually

you get used to it

the comfort zone 

is elastic

it adapts

expands

Two nights of tiny oxycodone pills

mostly to block the pain

for sleep

by the third night 

I used the pain

as a sleep aid

Moving at a pace that I 

generally 

loathe

passed by old men

and their tennis balls

neck and neck

in a foot race with 

crawling children

bugs

wind blown

litter

Showers are a necessary pain

I’ve only had two 

you’d be surprised 

how little one can reach

while immobilizing a wing

parts of the back

remain dirty

right armpit must be

washed

by right hand

think of the ape-like posture

left armpit 

only wet wipes

until these dirty bandages 

are removed

tomorrow

ah

the sweet stink

of patience

healing first

then everything else

the road to recovery is 

poorly paved

uphill

with a headwind

but the music is nice

and

the views are pretty enough 

if you can get away from the

distraction of

discomfort