The Waiting Room

The first to arrive, the last to leave.
I watch her bare feet underneath the desk
working away at each other
whilst the post-work casualties pile in.

A Polish man with an itchy foot,
a black man who can't stop shaking,
a women with a litter of four,
another who can't stop pissing.

Then there's a couple of fourteen
who want to make sure there isn't a baby on the way
after their four hour hand holding session.

I just want my damn stitches out.
They come in, sit down, get seen
whilst I watch them all
and the receptionist's feet.

After two and a half hours
I am called in, only the couple
deemed less worthy than I.
The nurse cuts them
and pulls them out...
off I go.

If there's a next time
I'm doing it myself.