A friend, well-meaning,
Suggests I get a heated bed pad
To put between my “pee” sheet and
King-sized, fitted linens.

“You’ve never had a better sleep,” says he.

But I’m afraid.
I see myself going up in flames,
Jeanne d’Arc-like without
The benefit of holy voices.

Even at the lowest setting
Something will go wrong,
From toasty, I’ll go roasty
Like a Medieval suckling pig.

No way.