because I don’t own a gun….

How can it be 630 in the morning, and I’m running late?
I search for my alarm, but it’s nowhere to be found.

The morning routine is just that. I arrive to work late….
I have no coffee, so the morning is a dull aching fog I swim thru
Until my time comes.  Doctor to see. First time since 1983?

Arrive on time to piles of more papers. She smiles at me as she hands me a pen.
I think the smile was for show.

In a cramped, tiny room with a stranger, trying to make polite conversation.
I try, but she saw right through me, and I her.

Doctor, please help me, are the words that escape my lips. The pain!

Lie down. Stand up. Shirt off. Pants down.

How are you, he asks? He doesn’t wait for my reply, but looks at my paperwork.
I usually wait until forty to do this exam, but since you are here…

Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first, I think? Then close my eyes and
Let my mind go blank.

I hear a glove snap, tells me he’ll call me
And the door closes.

Back to work. It seems like all the clowns wore their ass hats today.
Why wasn’t I notified?

Sometimes I feel like a termite, choking on a splinter.

3 Comments

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?