Another, he’s drinking it, she gives him a refill, is he able, monitors his progress, is he responding, another, he’s a real drinker, but he’s remaining calm, the flow is steady, he doesn’t gulp it, just absorbs it, we’ll need to go to the warehouse shouts another, will he ever stop it, he’s a blood thirsty man. Eight pints later, he has had enough, we haven’t had one of those in awhile, time out, she steps out the door, a cigarette to ease her tiredness. Being a nurse, she’s seen it all, they come in, broken, the lucky ones go home mended. An old surgeon, with the touch of God, all carers have that affect on you, they do what they have to do, and they don’t look beyond or carry bias, they understand, your color, race, where your from, the neighborhood or the ghetto, all bodies are the same, inside you have a soul. Some good will come out of it, they hope, even if you are a blood thirsty man. Nurse, give us another will ya, bring extra, this one will make it out, amen.
Solomon smiled, he soaked it up one night, made a promise of eternal gratitude, and was still able to laugh about it, and how it felt to be that blood thirsty man, amen. On the day of recall, he met a friend in the lift, a happy man, with difficulties, nothing is impossible he smiled.