In The Car on the Way to the Hospital

When he circles the roundabout,
I am pressed against the car door,
And it starts to hurt again.

Bandages coiled around both arms
like tefillin,
Blood as red as wine.

We rush through the night air,
A truly religious experience,
Worshipping in the synagogue of pain.

I pull my cap down over my eyes,
Because the lights, they blur together,
Just like I knew they would.

Just like they do every time.