Sometimes when you move into a new community, an organization known as the "Welcome Wagon" stops by and tries to help you feel at home in a strange new place. Once you're settled in for a little bit, other elements creep out of the woodwork to offer their own brand of howdy-do; I call this the "Second-Hand Welcoming Committee".

I think it's just a part of the balance of the universe, and I've developed my own defense mechanisms, which I can sum up this way: "Never insult an alligator until after you have crossed the river".

Second Hand Welcome

The second-hand welcoming committee
Caught up with me last night,
They cornered me in the break-room
And gave me a little bite,
And I really have to say
How surprised I was, indeed,
Especially, because less than an hour before
I assisted in their time of need.

Perhaps amidst the crises and mayhem
That is ongoing in the ICU,
It causes one's memory to focus
On the evil that men will do,
Thus stomping out any semblance of gratitude
To another member of your troop,
Despite the fact, that I was there for you
In the midst of your moment of poop.

Well, you've growled and snarled and bitten
What else is in your repertoire'?
Need I look forward to more friendly gestures?
Perhaps next time you'll attack me with your car -
And as much as it sounds so exciting
I think I'll just avoid you instead,
After having a taste of your welcoming
No longer will I be misled.

Fibril_late;
6/08