She sat on the curb

Tammy Hansen Snell

She sat on the curb in her hospital gown
pretending not to see me coming.
The tube from her hand to the IV pole in the street
lifted the flimsy sleeve of her robe.
Cars went by, and we both watched them
as if we cared what color they were.
The IV pole in the street didn’t matter
unless two cars went by at the same time.
“You can go away and leave me alone,” she said,
knowing my job wouldn’t let me do that.