Take-Out Box

he sat there with his head down
his take-out box next to him on the bench
but instead of food inside
it carries a little piece of him

happiness and laughter mingle
with loss and sorrow
in the halls of a place where neither pair
recognizes the other for what it is

‘Oh kitty!' cried the group that walked by
oblivious to the colors of misery shading our tread
part of me wants to correct them
but the moment passes all too quickly

you can tell that the men who do this
do it everyday hundreds of times,
their manner not quite reverent enough
their explanation not quite long enough
as they skim through the details like
rocks skim over water

i keep trying to ask more questions
or maybe just the same one over again, rephrased, each time
expecting more detail, expecting them to say that
the injection actually cures cancer and heals any sickness

she seems calm and unafraid to be handled by a stranger
and when it’s done she lays on the table and actually sighs-
breath once ragged and quick becomes slow and peaceful
and her whole body gives off slight purr that fades
very slowly into nothing

she sleeps, and because instead of fire we choose earth,
we, too, get a take-out box of our own.