Oregon Roulette Cross Out Poem

 

I hate going to the doctor
watching agonizingly slow tics of a clock
sitting in endless lines of chairs
surrounded by sick people
coughing
snuffling
hurling
moaning

I waddled through sterile doors
hunched over like a scarecrow
goat in a snow frozen field
getting on the scale
was like adding insult to injury
The nurse looked at my chart
scribbled a figure
raised a disapproving eyebrow

I was finally led on a leash to room number sixteen
the exam bed was wrapped in the usual crispy wax paper
I felt like a limp steak waiting to go into the freezer
I stared at ceiling tiles
reorganized the annoying buzz of lights
into vaguely recognizable patterns
I waited some more
in cubes stacked like Tetris boxes
I cough loudly
I’m still here
I’m still sick
Where are you?

The doctor enters after an hour
I vomit out all the sordid details
The doctor smiles nods and scrawls
As a melodramatic whole
the process is far too exaggerated
for a bitter bottle of pills
only the few can afford

Inspired from the October 2011 Edition of the Oregon Wine Press, Editor’s Note, Page 6, "What’s Up Doc?"

 
 

Also check out my new wordpress website. It's a literary journal called Randomly Accessed Poetics! Submissions are open. I will be publishing literary works, explicit language pieces, and eventually a journal a relative wrote in the late 1800's detailing their journey to Oregon on the Oregon Trail. And when I gather enough submitted works from other people, I will be cobbling together an e-anthology called Randomly Accessed Poetics.