Quick, I Need a Doctor
At the doctor’s office, I had to fill out forms,
Showing gory details—infirmities and norms.
They said, “Take a moment to furnish what we ask.
Just tell us your condition, and your family’s past.
Did your ancestors carry some dread disease?
Like hardened arteries or painful swollen knees?”
Reluctantly, I listed the sick and the lame,
All of my progenitors since the Mayflower came.
About three hours later, with pages by the score,
Intense pain seized me, and I passed out on the floor.
Then I heard someone say, and much to my sorrow,
“It’s time to close today. Please come back tomorrow.”
Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2011
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