you'll be fine

the doctor puts his cold
stethoscope
on my chest and listens.
does it hurt when I do this,
he says, pulling my arm
into the air. yes. I say.
it hurts.
everything hurts.
he nods.
he looks at his watch.
he listens some more,
he taps me on the back,
on the knee, on the elbow,
with a rubber arrow
instrument then says
inhale, exhale.
is anything bothering you,
he says.
yes. I tell him
as he straps a black
band around my arm.
a lot of things.
sometimes I can't sleep,
sometimes I sleep too much.
he takes the reading and writes
it down.
he looks into my mouth
with a flashlight,
my nose and ears. strangely,
he asks me how long since
i last
made love to a woman.
i ask him what time is it,
which makes him laugh.
we're done here, he says.
get dressed. you'll be fine,
you'll live.