Professional Men
(2 votes, average: 3 out of 5)
Loading ...I don’t like a small chiropractor
armed with little monkey hands.
How’s he going to snap my frozen neck?
How can I trust a dentist with
hands like steaks and fat choke-fingers
that bruise my gums against my teeth?
Then the legendary masseur who is so
sadistically gratified by my scream reaction
as he digs into a pain point in my neck?
How about the teacher who stutters
or the actor with a congenital lisp, or
the wispy security guard nearing eighty?
Remember the waiter who had that
trembling condition and the lively aversion
to unbroken crockery, unspilled wine?
And the lawyer who mumbled and bumbled
until everyone within listening distance was
moved to give him anything to shut him up
Who are these guys? How do they
persevere in the face of such daunting
and repeated catastrophe and disaster?
They are all, all men, my dears, the others
who somehow bull their way through a life for
which so many are so unflinchingly unfit.
By Jill C. Alt
Filed under: Life Poems
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