Robot-Assisted Surgery Poem by Robert Ronnow

Appointment to have organ removed by robot-assisted
      surgeon.
Air-conditioned, no mosquitoes in the OR. When you
      arrive
You'll remove all your clothes. Naked before the ladies,
      nurses
Who have seen it all before. Mainly remember you're
      not unique.
Think about the government while they're mixing up the
      medicine.
There's always governance even if there's little or no
      government.
Back to counting backwards. Inside out, if I die, will I
      know it?

At 70, Jack's running the gauntlet with some skill!
Benny Golson wonders aloud what might have been
Had Clifford Brown not been killed in that auto
      accident.
Jack's girlfriend once said he was the reincarnation of
      Clifford
But he doesn't believe in ghosts, karma or an afterlife.
Benny's old girlfriend Betty inspired the tune Along
      Came Betty
And that's the most afterlife Benny or Betty's gonna get.

I thought the discussion of Citizens United in Foreign
      Affairs
Was liberating. I had had my usual liberal Subaru
      reaction
To MSNBC reports whereas this article showed the
      Court's decision
Will diversify political action and break the duopoly of
      the stalemated
Major parties. Good for you, good for me, good for the
      family tree.
Those two gay geezers Yeats talks about, I think I like
      the serving man
Who stands and waits. As a boy, did he hunt? Alone or
      with his father?

The Trojan bench being not as deep as the Greek
Once Sarpedon and Hector go down even the lucky
      shot
To Achilles' feet is not enough to save the town.
Aeneas is no match for wily Odysseus
Although unbeknownst to all he has the last laugh when
      Rome
Conquers Athens, the Myrmidons, what's left of Ilion
And the whole known world from India to Britain.

It's not bad to acknowledge death's primacy
Although after a while you stop remembering
To fear. That's when everything becomes clear
Purpose v. purposelessness matters less,
Anomie v. rule of law, that's a preference
Love v. loneliness, worth about 25 cents
Or a million bucks in the light of the holocaust.

Nothing but light, love and the majesty of death in the
      room.
Machines stand ready like marines, their beauty is in the
      motion
That overcomes inertia. The food supply is deeply
      compromised
So eat whatever you want. Mourning the dead is part of
      the business
Of healing and staying alive. When you get to the
      afterlife, walk with eyes open,
Ocotillo and cactus may be in flower. The robot does
      the work, imposes
Its own small order, like a girl on a bicycle with disorder
      in her hair.



'How the hell do I know if there's an afterlife? I don't even know how the can opener works.' - Woody Allen