Note to those who sometimes take this stuff too literally: My most recent doctor’s visit was routine and went fine. No X-rays or MRI. But my imagination spent too much time in waiting rooms.

From May 27:

At the doc’s office
It all seems pretty sterile
But I guess that’s good

At the doc’s office
Preliminaries go well
I still have a pulse

“X-ray of your head
“Shows nothing,” the doctor says
Well, Jeez, I knew that

“Get an MRI,”
Doc orders. “What’s that?” I ask.
Doc says, “Three, four grand”

MRI: Strapped in
And deafened by pounding sounds
This makes me better?

MRI’s two truths:
— It sure as hell has a beat
— You can’t dance to it

But I flunked this test
Just wasn’t patient enough
To fit their image

The MRI broke
Stymied by my magnetic
Personality

Doc, I don’t know what
You hoped to see in me
But you’re out of luck

Epilogue:
The bill makes me ill
Doc says, “Take out two loans, pay
“Me in the morning”