The D Spot

You can always tell the ones who are dying
they are quieter, more polite.
So focused on the inner battle,
trying to maintain the even in and out
a gently erractic pulse;
the ones who are dying are soft spoken,
take a back seat to the drama,
as if knowing that it wouldn’t matter much anyway.
And the ones who aren’t dying
well
You can tell them too.
They are crying yelling
swearing at you with spittle soaked words
Threatening lawsuits
Crawling across the floor in order to
better impress with
histrionics and moans.
Meanwhile,
the quiet one in the chair…
she just slips away
between the time you call security and the time you grab her chart.
Almost too late,
You step over the writhing on the floor
to reach the crash cart.