In the ward you have to draw
blood to the surface with blunt objects--
a hairbrush, a Dixie Cup.

My roommate, a three-timer,
showed me the ropes.

We swapped medications
and I thought I would become him.
Perhaps that's what I needed;

to be ten years younger with a tattoo
of Dee Dee Ramone naked

and a scar, kissing the jugular,
impressed with a number two treble hook.

All that changed
the night he tried to hack
off an eyelid with a plastic spoon,

and everyone was pissed
when the head nurse announced
there'd no longer be

Cream of Wheat
for breakfast.

Richard Jordan
RICHARD JORDAN is a Ph.D. Mathematician who lives and works in the Washington, D.C. area. By day he develops and analyzes mathematical models for the spread of infectious diseases, and by night he does his best to avoid contracting any such diseases. He started writing approximately 18 months ago, and poems and flash fiction have appeared in over 40 print and on-line magazines in the past year, most recently, Melic Review, 3rd Muse Poetry Journal, The Pedestal,  Steel Point Quarterly, NetAuthor E2K, Maelstrom, Poems Niederngasse, Kimera and Red River Review. He is a Coeditor of the new e-zine, Slipknot. He has also served as Guest Editor for Stirring and Facets. This is his second appearance in The Adirondack Review.