the rooms at the hospital went for
550 a day.
that was for the room alone.
the amazing thing, though, was that
in some of the rooms
prisoners were
lodged.
saw them chained to their beds,
usually by an
ankle.
550 a day, plus meals,
now that’s luxury
living—plus first-rate medical attention
and two guards
on watch.
and here I was with my cancer,
walking down the halls in my
robe
thinking, if I live through this
will take me years to
pay off the hospital
while the prisoners won’t owe
damned
thing.
not that I didn’t have some
sympathy for those fellows
but when you consider that
when something like a bullet
in one of your buttocks
gets you all that free attention,
medical and otherwise,
plus no billing later
from the hospital business
office, maybe I had chosen
the wrong
occupation?
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
