My Best Friend for a Short While

Somehow, we have become attached to one another.
At dead of night, when I was out of it a while,
somehow we got hitched.
But for the moment I am on a mission:
to prove to Sarah; sister, guard dog, guardian angel, she
who looks askance to see me on my feet and unaccompanied,
that I am viable alone,
have all the powers at my disposal
to stay upright for a half hour -- plus those I'll need
to move around... But then,
I'm not exactly unaccompanied just now:
I have my best friend, Mr Bloodbags by my side.
Tall, ram-rod stiff, flat feet with castors,
cheerful screen for face, and only one shortcoming:
he only speaks bleepese.

Come on, I say, spotting that the corridor is quiet.
Beeep, bip, bip, bip, bip, beeeep! Beep, beep! he says,
meaning something like I'm right beside you kiddo!
I'm making for the toilet first of all.
Once both of us are safely in, I bolt the door
and from my hospital jim-jams extract
The Meanest Flower , a Mim-
i Khalvati book, no more than pocket size.
Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip, biiip, blo, blo, blop, peeeeeeep, pop,
he goes. Then three raps at the door.

David! Are you alright in there? I know you're there,
I can hear your blood transfusion beeping...
I put the book away and look at him.
Why can't you keep your mouth shut chum? I ask.
Blop, blo, blo, pleep, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" he goes.