Ambulance X extracts several consultants

from the slow gumming death at the office orifice.

Ambulance Y imprisons the sigh of the recent amputee

and dumps her in the xylophone trees.

Ambulance X scours the tanning complex for repunzels

rotting in their skin cooking coffins.

Ambulance Y drops the body off at the door step.

Ambulance X pulls you out of the party

and rubs your freckles like a DJ to his records

but Ambulance Y teaches you the word goodbye

and cuts your hands to show you where you stand,

under the monolith of what is love and what is scam,

what is sun and what is tan.

The Ambulance Angels pull up to your doorstep

the sirens flash emergency,

"you'd better come quick."

The Ambulance Angels chisel a crack in your mouth,

and then they paint a landscape with your regret and shouts.

Roll tape and decode the moans,

ventilate the scandal from these locked up mouth holes.

You'll never see your wife

and children again so tell us what it was going through your head,

when you looked into their eyes

and said "no thanks i'll take the hooker instead"

You'll never see that office again

so when the nurse amputates both of your thighs

come a little bit closer to the mic

and tell us what you miss more your desk or the hungry sky.

The Ambulance Angels pull up to the graveyard,

and leave you there bubbling broken sonnets and shards.

The Ambulance Angels notify your next of kin

and show them the scrap book of your operation:

His head was a faucet leaking love, laughter and lies:

all his secret wishes, all his world famous sighs.

But before you give in,

just remember we're coming back for your children.