Musings by The Poet Loriet
Modern Day Rapunzel
We watch the clock
tick away seconds
from nine to five,
vying the time until
lunch break--
just another
tepid Tuesday.
Sterile white medical clogs
clippity-clump through
monochrome-carpeted paths.
My craving for NaCl
leads me to
the antiquated popcorn machine
in the hospital snack shop
where I can satisfy my urges
for a mere quarter.
Winding back to the office,
I sporadically drop kernels,
toying with the idea
of being Gretel-ish,
leaving a trail
just in case my prince
comes to rescue me
from the brick tower.
The asphalt parking lot
is being doused in dreary rain
as the moving sea of umbrellas
ebb and flow
through the revolving door
at will.
Concentrating,
I dial the phone,
my fingers go through the motions
as if on auto-pilot,
while my body remains glued
to a gray semi-padded
standard office stock
chair.
My mind, however, remains free,
lost in daydreams
of tropical fish, vibrant,
their fins undulating
in mesmerizing patterns.
I go back to answering
the demanding phone,
awakened from
my reverie--
Can I help you?
Can you help me?
Can you hold please?
Would you hold me?
Can I hold you?...
I stare longingly out the window,
pacing, humming along with the radio,
finding ways to amuse myself--
just one single serving
of roasted nurse under glass.
Take my temperature
and add garnish.
Serve to general public
then recycle~please~
I am not your standard
bio-hazard,
just a nightingale
poised for flight,
dispersing a sunny song
amongst the clouds
of managed care.
~Lori Beal~
tick away seconds
from nine to five,
vying the time until
lunch break--
just another
tepid Tuesday.
Sterile white medical clogs
clippity-clump through
monochrome-carpeted paths.
My craving for NaCl
leads me to
the antiquated popcorn machine
in the hospital snack shop
where I can satisfy my urges
for a mere quarter.
Winding back to the office,
I sporadically drop kernels,
toying with the idea
of being Gretel-ish,
leaving a trail
just in case my prince
comes to rescue me
from the brick tower.
The asphalt parking lot
is being doused in dreary rain
as the moving sea of umbrellas
ebb and flow
through the revolving door
at will.
Concentrating,
I dial the phone,
my fingers go through the motions
as if on auto-pilot,
while my body remains glued
to a gray semi-padded
standard office stock
chair.
My mind, however, remains free,
lost in daydreams
of tropical fish, vibrant,
their fins undulating
in mesmerizing patterns.
I go back to answering
the demanding phone,
awakened from
my reverie--
Can I help you?
Can you help me?
Can you hold please?
Would you hold me?
Can I hold you?...
I stare longingly out the window,
pacing, humming along with the radio,
finding ways to amuse myself--
just one single serving
of roasted nurse under glass.
Take my temperature
and add garnish.
Serve to general public
then recycle~please~
I am not your standard
bio-hazard,
just a nightingale
poised for flight,
dispersing a sunny song
amongst the clouds
of managed care.
~Lori Beal~
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Modern Day Rapunzel
Modern Day Rapunzel