good-bye lockers that fill the little room.
good-bye locker # 14, which i chose as mine because it is out of sequence.
good-bye little donated hand-knit caps.
good-bye big scary machines that might magically kill cancer cells.
and good-bye to the kind people who run those machines.
good-bye to the nurse i never liked who never liked me, whom i lied to religiously. and by the way, i never used the stupid cream.
good-bye friend, whose name i don't know, but whose brave and slightly cynical attitude i admire.
good-bye friend, please keep breathing, even though your prognosis sucks. i am attempting frequent contact with the representative of the universal force on your behalf.