New poem

Pronounced Dead

Being homeless, I'd been sleeping
in my car for days.
Nothing too exciting about that,
except for this morning
waking up to the flashing lights
of an ambulance,
and a technician knocking on my window.

I was pronounced dead
by an early morning jogger
who must've peered in and saw
a man in a casket-like position.
As for that,
there's only so many positions to use
when sleeping in a car.

And as for the jogger,
good for him, I say.
I say, look all you want--
Peer into my windows,
and phone me into the authorities
as a dead man in an abandoned car.

+++

The ambulance driver points at me
through a frosted window.
What's new?
The police have been knocking every night for days,
and there I am,
rolling down my window,
looking at my fate through tired eyes.