For seventeen days and for seventeen nights
I sat on the waiting room chair.
The doctors and patients and staff all came through,
But none seemed to see I was there.
I started to get rather cross as I sat;
No-one came near the spot I'd reserved -
It just wasn't fair as I didn't receive
The attention I knew I deserved.
And to make matters worse, many colleagues arrived
And were seen straight away with much clarity –
People cared what they thought, and what they had to say;
I did not understand the disparity.
I knew there was plenty that I had to tell
That really deserved to be heard –
All the problems galore I could list to the one
Who allowed me to get in a word;
"There's my girlfriend who threatened to leave me, she said,
'less to see other guys I'd allow her."
"And that nasty red rash on the backs of my legs
Which I found when I got in the shower."
"And the fact I'd been recently told I was ill
'cos I care far too much what I weigh."
"And the fact I'd begun having dreams 'bout my mate
And was worried that I might be gay."
But 'twas not just my problems which I should pass on
Which I knew were of major import;
I'd also heard plenty of gossip, which I
Would be only too glad to report.
I'd picked up some news as I skulked 'round the town
And I trawled the celebrity gutter,
But you'd still have to ask me to see what I know
'bout that spiky haired lad with the stutter.
I'd been there for a week and had spoken to none,
Till one day which was briefly elating;
A girl wandered in and sat down next to me
And she picked me up while she was waiting.
Her attention was total as I told my tales;
Down my spine her long fingers she stroked,
But she quickly decided that I was just dull –
"What great use of ten minutes," she joked.
So I sat in that chair and I cursed at the Doc
As I stayed in his room unconsulted
And I hoped that perhaps I could stay un-downcast
By the lack of esteem which resulted.
Then came day seventeen, that lamentable day,
When at last did the doctor come in
And straight at me he pointed, and said to his nurse;
"Throw that crap magazine in the bin."
July-August 2003