Outpatient

“Tomorrow then is the only great purifier, give your confessions to the future,” and he scowled at the ghosts in his closet and was steadfast he would not look back.       “Nothing would be the same from now on, least of all the attitude (that restraining moral fiber of an attitude that had limited living these past few years to an analysis of decadence, an ideological restraint accomplishing only guilt in the face of degeneration and fooling itself in the process only in hard drunken stupor) would no longer be necessary,” he mused.       “Treat such worldly responsibilities as a child and all children as responsibility,” he often talked to himself like this, but this particular aphorism aroused a unique pang of despair and he sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.       “I’m doing it already damnit …, how will I ever make it?” he stared at the packed bag and then at his new shoes.       “If I must constantly remind myself of right and wrong I will not be able to function, the doctor was very clear about it,” and he considered the months of therapy, his amazing progress, and the announcement yesterday that he was to be processed and released.       As the doctor abruptly entered the room he stood up perhaps too quickly and straightened the crease in his pants.       “Are you feeling all right?” the doctor asked, sounding genuinely concerned.       “Yes! Yes, just a little nervous I guess,” and then he regretted making such an admission.       “Take this it will calm you down for the trip,” the doctor handed him a capsule and a glass of water.       Almost instantly he dropped to the floor and two white robed interns carried him into the hall and placed him on a stretcher bed.       “Prepare him for autopsy …, apparent genetic disorder, worthy of a thorough investigation,” the doctor commanded, and he followed the patient down the hall, leaving the cardboard brown suitcase in the doorway.Will post this in Storywrite also, wanted to see what the poets thought. Written February 6th, 2002 © on Feb 06 2002 01:08 PM PST   0 • 9