doctor's visit

you go to the doctor
for a checkup.
you are way over due
and you have this
black mole that
used to be brown.
you imagine that it's
the first sign
of impending death.
you sit and wait
with the others.
the sniffling kids
with cuts and bruises
like eggs on their
wide foreheads,
the coughing moms.
the limping grand
parents. you've
filled out all
the forms. your life
history in brief.
coming from a long
line of mutts, not
too much has been
chronic or gone
wrong. so there is
a lot of N/A being
written down. it's
the longest two
hours of your life
and you begin to itch,
and scratch. you
pick up and put
down each and every
magazine. some that
still have liz taylor
on the front asking if
she can keep the weight
off this time. i
suspect she will.
you see the dust on
the plants, you count
the number of buzzing
neon lights that
are out. you watch a fly
banging softly against
the sealed window.
you listen
to the water cooler
bubble and gurgle.
you fall asleep until
the nurse taps you
on the shoulder and says
the doctor will see
you now. thirty
seconds later he says
you're fine. once again
you've cheated death.