Ever imagining the dire, the sudden <br />the menace with no thought of the <br />gradual, the lingering itch of whatever. <br />That was my sister. <br />A stomach ache had to be diagnosed. <br />"Oh, come on, it's no big deal." <br />"How do you know? You aren't me." <br /> <br />At the doctor's office she waited. <br />He reached for his stethoscope, <br />held it to her back and put it away <br />in his pocket. Then, leaning across <br />his desk, he asked importantly, <br />"How long have you been eating your hair?" <br />She couldn't answer. <br /> <br />After surgery they came into the recovery <br />room where she had just wakened. <br />"You are a lucky lady. We found nothing." <br />She had an incision and several visitors. <br />Besides, she was so lucky (incisions heal) <br />and not a little disgusted. <br /> <br />"Me, eating my hair."<br /><br />Dorothea Tanning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lucky-37/
