The Doctor, Part 2

I pretend
it is a multi-million dollar
secret,
a microfilm
in high demand
on the black market
hidden deep
in my belly,

the doctor pokes me,
prods me,
points
and says,
“cancer,”

like he’s a
double agent,
like I’m
the gingerbread man,
I jump from the table
and, wearing only
my hospital gown,
my bare feet
padding the tarmac,
I’m running down the street just as fast as I can,
racing past
signs,
past
windows filled with
life,
want, want, want, want,
I want, I want
to eat
everything,
to steal all the jewelry,
I want
to have sex
with everyone I see,
smashing through the glass:

action hero
fireworks.