Sunday, June 18, 2006

Today, being sunday and all, I'm dropping in a much more recent poem (as if 2004 was recent), written for some friends of mine in the Ophthalmology Clinic. I did a 6 month stint there back in 2002. Periodically, I will place a few poems that are out of the regular placement of the Underside.

Ophtho Christmas

'Twas the 3 weeks before Christmas
And all through the clinic,
Not a patient was griping
Only the poet-cynic,
Things were just too darned easy
And the phone never rang,
Except a chorus of angels
And even, they Sang............
Oh, it's grand to be in Ophthalmology
We're not working, we're not paid
Because we're free,
To do whatever anything we like
Take a 2 hour lunch
And use the treadmill or a bike,
Our boss named Bob
Gives us bon-bons
With our coffee,
The medical director
Gives us
Almond roca toffee,
The patients tip us grandly
As they smile,
Paying homage to the lowly
Rank and file,
All of a sudden every each of them
Is screaming,
And I lift my head and realize
I've been dreaming,
It's just an ordinary day
In this here clinic,
Thank goodness for the
Expatriated cynic!

Fibril_late; 12/04

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