Where am I? What am I doing? I'm standing on the side of a road, the cars rush past, there is no path, I am in danger.
I read the sign on the other side of the road, I must be on the freeway five miles south of Bigtown, I must have walked here.
Here comes a police car with flashing lights; this has happened before.
Hello, officer. I can imagine what you heard on the radio:
This is a missing person announcement. Thelma Jenkins was last seen walking south in Bigton wearing a nightie and pink slippers. She has white hair and walks with a limp. She does not know what she is doing. If you have seen her please contact the police in Bigtown or your local police.
You want me to get into your car? Please put that big plastic bag on the seat first, just to be safe.
You seem to be a very nice guy. What are you doing in the police force? And working with a trash of people, people like me?
I belong in the old folk's home opposite the firehouse in Bigtown. I sit all day facing the blank wall and laugh. But sometimes I get five minutes, five minutes to be human, five minutes to be alive, five minutes that I'm having right now.
Please handcuff me and loop the cuffs through the car door handle, just to be safe. You hold my hands, you are so good, If only I could have met you thirty years ago, if only.
You still hold my hands, but it is too late, I am going, I am going away.
Everything white cotton wool.