The toenails of the decades click on the oak wood floor:
they patter past the post, mortality set on "stun";
they'll eventually get the zoomies
and then your race is run.
The other day I learned of a new procedure:
they peel your prostate like an orange, removing it whole
rather than slicing it. I don't know how they get it out,
or if it leaves a hole.
The yellow leaves are brilliant in the sun,
the birch bark's white puts cadmium to shame,
the sky gets pale closer to the ground,
the tide runs back the way it came.
2 comments:
In this part of the world, prostate surgery is performed by the "da Vinci robot" system. Whoever thought of the name and did they really want the name of a masterful Renaissance mind next to a programmable machine?
Hee! Yes, one wonders, though one also wonders if one really wants to know.
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