On the night I spent on the ER

The bed that is not a bed
became the raft of a sleepless night.
Sheets like napkins that remain cold all the time
scrape my arms with a salty itch...

The neat air filled the space with a taste of sourness.

Blurry white shapes with
impersonal voices and impersonal faces
grab my arm every hour with polite violence:
they just count heartbeats.

There's no pillow to hide me.

Green glazed tiles and the moans of a woman
who suffers from mysterious pains every five seconds
are with me in the hallway;
Looking at the lamp and at the ceiling...

The whitest light I've ever seen.