Friday, June 5, 2015

poem of the day 06.05.15

to a social worker

i don’t wear
my emotions too well
so maybe that’s why
you didn’t come over to comfort me
lean in and put a hand on my shoulder
while i was waiting for my wife
to get her first breast MRI
since cancer came calling last year
i don’t get teary-eyed in public
or look much like a man whose had
a train run over his entire life
which is probably why
i was the only one in the room
not to get one of your fliers
i can’t morph into the pensive daughter
or the crying kid with the mom
whose hair is just starting to grow back
no matter how much you looked my way for some fragile sign
and i’m most certainly not
the little old man with the cane
the little old lady who still wears
plastic on her head in a rain shower
the ones finishing off their lives with our universal disease
mostly i look like i’m never bothered by anything
so why even pretend?
i just would’ve refused your flier anyway
your frown of sympathy
what is there to say
that i haven’t thought a million times before?
so keep all of it
your whole act
or take it over to physical therapy across the street
i’m just going to keep sitting here
if you don’t mind
and wait for my wife
watching that wooden door with the diamond-shaped mirror
that keeps opening and closing
pushing people back out into this harsh waiting room light
where you stand at the ready
with all of your guidance and support
the chance for people to talk…for free
as you benevolently remind everyone
who gets in your path.

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