I came to see the doctor and was told, “He’s running late.”
The reading fare was magazines for women as they wait.
Was this a gynecologist or were men second-rate?
I felt I was a sparrow looking for a speck to eat.
I wish I’d brought my book to read; I knew that it’s a treat.
The Civil War had frills and pink in ev’ry which way beat.
A man went to the window after I’d been there some time.
(‘Twas feeling a bit sorry for myself as if a crime
I’d done and now was jailed, no lawyer and no dime.)
He first was given papers, then decided not to stay,
And turned them back and told the nurse he had to go away.
He mentioned who he was; she said she’d go and say.
And after just a little bit, the fellow jumped the line;
The place he took without a place was that place that was mine!
Without my extra hour wait, that might have been just fine.
Then fifteen minutes more and out the door the prep nurse came
And after all that time I’d spent, I finally heard my name.
It seemed to me that I’d been called for golden Oscar fame.
And as she led me back to yet another waiting room
We passed doc and the jumping toad – talk, talk in hallway’s gloom.
I waited half an hour more within an inner tomb.
When finally he entered, my year’s happiness was nil.
He said accept apology, all day had been uphill.
I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t think that I will.”
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.
The Bard on the Hill 