ER

Six pink foam rollers frame her face.
She is wearing comfortable shoes.
She’s waiting.

We are all waiting. People in pajamas,
lumberjack shirts, some in shorts.
It’s the middle of winter.

The door opens. A name is called.    WILSON
 
Some of us are patients, most are family.
Big Bang re-runs loop on the TV monitor.
Canned laughter fills the room.

Years ago, my little dog went missing.
Panicked, we searched our neighborhood.
As a last resort, went to the Pound.

Walking up and down the rows of crates,
I was sure my special girl would shine but no,
she blended in with the rest of the mutts.

The door again.    MORGAN

At the ER, we are like dogs waiting,
wanting to be claimed. Rows of chairs filled
with a mixed breed of humanity.

We all look the same.

We all are special.