a cup of coffee
i’m watching the russian girl
behind the desk at the medical imaging center
she’s yelling at a frail woman
who’s head is wrapped in a turban or a towel
she’s saying
yeah, well i don’t speak spanish
i said, i don’t
speak spanish
no one is getting their point across to anyone here
this place is a calamity and it’s hot
they have the televisions going full blast
it’s no wonder everyone has to shout
people are scattered
there are some sick and some who will be sick
most look scared shitless to be here
the receptionist in front of my wife and i
well, she hasn’t even acknowledged us yet
she’s too busy talking to the others
about last night’s variety show
apparently her favorite didn’t win
there’s a part of me that wants to grab her by the neck
turn her sharply toward us
give her a touch of the whiplash
tell her, hey, my wife’s hands and legs are shaking
so if you wouldn’t mind….
but i’ve been tamed by this world for too long
so we wait her out
finally my wife says, excuse me
the receptionist barks, wait a minute
before going back to her favorite television show
of course that’s when the delivery man arrives
and distractions abound anew
our receptionist gets off of her fat ass with a struggle
she yells at the poor mexican
where in the hell have you been?
he shrugs
there’s no point in talking to her over the televisions
she rips the bag out of his hand
it’s only a cup of coffee, for christ’s sake
it’s as simple as rain
she throws the delivery man a few bucks
then huddles the steaming cup under her desk
for sugar, milk, i don’t know
whatever she can do to keep my shivering wife waiting
another five minutes in this place
and i wonder if she’s ever had to have a biopsy
when the receptionist finally looks up
without a smile
with contempt for her station in life and ours
a look of smug, healthy satisfaction of her bloated face
and says, yeah?
as if we’re the ones being the burden
it dawns on me right then and there
how capable of murder i truly am.
06.18.14
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