Not feeling like a chat that afternoon <br />in the hospital waiting room, I sat <br />at the back in a row of empty chairs. <br />I didn’t have long to wait before <br />I saw him coming, slightly shuffling, <br />but purposeful, across the floor <br />to occupy the chair right next <br />to mine — “You can get them here for free, <br />they’ll charge you for them at the chemist.” <br />“What? ” — “Urine specimen bottles.” <br />“Oh! ” — I didn’t want to know. <br />“They test you nowadays for <br />everything — just dip it in <br />and they can find all sorts of things <br />gone wrong with you, no messing.” <br />Oh! ” — I didn’t want to know. <br />“I had my results last week, <br />after my operation...” Just then <br />to my delight I spied my wife <br />beckoning me to come, so <br />“Sorry, mate, I’ll have to go” <br />and all the gory details of your cherished op., <br />thank God, I’ll never get to know.<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-hospital-waiting-room/
