The forecourt has a border of cracked prosthetic limbs
They intertwine by grip or lateral crossing
Their proximity
Dense enough to keep out dogs
And creeping infants
Each rejected transplant organ buried here
Retains the name of donor and recipient
On embossed plaques mimicking get well and condolence cards
In the Book of Memory
Boxed to resemble a pay and park vending machine
Visitors scribble anecdotes from the point
When time slowed down
Some pages are left blank
Others are blotched red when sufficient pressure was applied
To staunch bleeding from a major artery
And drive a pen through paper
There is a restaurant for those affected in any way
Where all meat is roasted after being opened, pinned
And prepped
And the cause of death recorded
Sauces simmer and evaporate
Like petrol when the engine’s gunning
Cotton wadding is suggested
By bread rolls peeled of crust
Soup of the day is borsch
Or cream of tomato
A calibrated, green light beam generated by the table decoration
Leans against every face
Pinpointing surgical reconstruction and automatically
Generating a 10% discount
Orders are taken via two-way radio
One notch beneath the emergency services’ protected bandwidth
Patrons are respectfully reminded that
Reservations will not be taken in advance
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