For M.R.M., M.D.
Doctors! Can’t live with ‘em, and, certainly,
Can’t live without ‘em. Perhaps (carefully)
We might tame them, rein in that vanity
Nourished by their desp’rate patients’ holy
Trust. Remember that hoary med school joke?
Saved souls and angels queued, wait, pissed-off, mocked
As God cuts the mess hall line; one soul spoke,
“Look at that! Now He thinks He’s a doctor!”
Fevers and ruined bones decorate the days,
Festoon the hours, shape the frantic works
Those good physicians, endlessly, unfazed,
Deliver—but must we endure those quirks
That supercede divinity? Only
Doctors know the politics, methods, costs
Of this elab’rate game? Only they, prone
To such complexity? While we, star-crossed,
Mere dolts with no clue, ignorant screwballs,
Bend to their will—(they’re DOCTORS, after all!).
Marvin Klotz Ph.D. (11/29/09)