Thirty Minutes of EternityI lay on the table
In a gown made of cocktail napkins.
A funny cap covering my head.
"This will only sting a bit" The tech says,
My eyeball is threatening to retreat.
Strapped onto the table, I cannot even blink an eye
Sounds of whirring and pounding
Enter my brain and I am convinced it will never leave my person.
Even though my head is not in the oven,
But my lower body,
The machinešs noise will never stop.
I have an itch.
I dare not tell the tech
And I dare not to scratch
But for the 10 minutes left,
I lay there on that increasingly cold table
Itching to death.
Finally the humming stops,
The technician comes out of the little room
Pushes a button and out I come like a cookie out of the oven.
Helping me to sit up on that tiny grooved table.
I fight to regain my hearing to hear what the tech is saying
I see lips move but all I hear is the humming and pounding.
Finally the tech directs me to where my clothing in
And I throw the napkin away
I put on my street clothes and make a hasty retreast.
Going outside I see a fire engine
But all I hear
Is the humming and pounding
Published on April 19, 2006 in