my bones are too whole for my heart

A bird is watching me like a hawk from the linden tree. I think it is an actual hawk.

Meanwhile, the weather does that in-between thing with snow, rain, slush, ice and overall greyness. They say the hospital is swamped with people who have slipped on wet ice and broken bones, and people suffering from the winter vomiting bug. I walk down slippery sidewalks with caution, feel the tug of spring in my soul and think of the doctor I'm in love with, the one who pronounced me healthy and strong, the one who probably hasn't thought of me since. He is somewhere out there examining fractures, prescribing x-rays and pain killers, handing out soothing smiles.

I don't know where to find him, not even after haunting hospital corridors, cafeterias and parking lots like a madwoman. I may need to try breaking a bone.