at my semi-annual check down,
(to wait a year in between,
is to invite invasive festering cicadas)
and he inquires,
how goes the writing?
sighing, replying,
“oh doc, trying real hard
to limit myself to a poem,
on a one-a day-regimen,
but it just ain’t happening”
sighing, replying,
de doc he say;
“I feel you, how I
wish I could see
but one patient a day;
investigate their every pore,
scan the body fulsome,
even tween their toes,
their follicles and nose,
and feel and sleep assuredly,
I’ve done my best for them!”
and spontaneous we reply
to each other:
“but it just can’t be done!”
he rights me twice a year,
I, thank him daily, even,
enscripting a write
just for him,
de minimus!
no fewer than
twice a day
~~~
7:30am
Tuesday
3-10-26