Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Waiting Room

Sitting in the waiting room of the uninsured,
listening to soft rock and asthmatic breathing.
The receptionist is friendly enough,
with her cheap haircut and unslept eyes.
Here today looking for the all clear,
the "It is nothing,"
the "Just keep an eye on it."
Filing out all the forms,
the DOB, the check yes or no,
the sign here and here.
Do I let the man
with the sprained wrist
go ahead of me?
No, because I am an American,
and God damn it, I was here first.

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