Tuesday, May 23, 2017

The Love Doctor

Because it was a Friday afternoon
And because I knew that soon the usual sensations
Of restlessness and loneliness and anxiousness
Would make their unwelcome return
I sent word to the Love Doctor
And made an appointment,
Late, of course, for Friday night

And went upstairs to freshen up
And get dressed up and groom myself
In the vestal safety of my room,
With alcohol and aftershave applied
To prepare my face to meet the faces
I would meet in one of those unholy places
Where the guru puts on his clinic,

Where his masterful approach to the physic
Of the symptoms of my ailment
Is displayed in the effortless attainment
Of interest, closeness, and contact details
As he scribbles in his black notebook
And prescribes a night of dark and hidden passion
Away from the plastic cups and too-bright lights,

Then he returns to raise a toast and proudly
Boast of his successful incisions and ponders
My reluctance and indecision and tries to trick me
Into action by pushing me to envy him,
Recommends jealousy as the first treatment in my cure,
To remedy my deficiency of intrigue and allure,
Tempting the prevention of some malignant chastity,

Poking, prodding, and examining for signs
That one is not blind to his social superiority,
Waiting for the "Oohs" and "Aahs" and
The tightening of my chest as yet another
Model subject succumbs to the chance of an intimate exam,
Another young lady who does not fear the touch
Of the devilish Love Doctor's ice-cold hand.

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