Leaving Las Vegas (poem)

Leaving Las Vegas

Someone pick my hands up off the ground.
Pick them up. Pull me up.
Hurry please.
This is not a game.

Someone raise my arms and lift my head.
Get me standing. I can stand.
Hurry please.
This is not a game.

Someone turn me over. Close my eyes.
I can feel the metal in my muscles.
Hurry please.
This is not a game.

Someone call my wife and let her know.
Tell her, “He loved you and now he's gone.”
Hurry please.
This is not a game.

Gregory

Image courtesy of photosforclass.com and Bob Dass.