my days as an old-timer at the doctor’s office

well, one day and done, but collectively, a correct title.

everything in the examining room is younger than I am. and cleaner.

and doesn’t fart. and doesn’t wear stained cardigan sweaters.

I may have more teeth, but less clear running water. I’m darker.

my temperature isn’t comfort controlled. I think I’m smarter,

but I don’t know. my doctor is half my age and calls me Mr. William

in a loud voice when he enters the room. he specializes in “sports medicine”.

I told him I played left field, maybe to get a leg-up against the competition. 

there seem to be three other examining rooms like this one.

today it’s this room. quadruplets. they look alike and dress alike

and speak the same language. they all have my eyes.

appointments every six months could mean another six down the road.

it keeps me on my toes, thinking about the future of medicine.