Untitled - Campbell University

Treatment
I walk into the office and give my name;
The omega sign forms between the receptionist’s eyebrows,
and she tells me,
“Take a seat. We’ll call when we’re ready for you.”
So I sit, and I stare;
I look at my twenty-two-year-old hands
and begin to wonder about
pain,
trying to churn out a method to just
think it away;
The waiting room coddles its occupants
with yellowed posters and paintings of families
and hands being held
and cats;
I stare at them, unmoved;
I blink, and stare, and blink,
and almost forget;
There’s a poster above one bald woman’s
slick head:
“A Decade of Excellence”
with fine print, boasting Ivy League doctors
and an innovative and expensive
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