On The Subject Of Doctors Poem by James Tate

On The Subject Of Doctors

Rating: 5.0


I like to see doctors cough.
What kind of human being
would grab all your money
just when you're down?
I'm not saying they enjoy this:
'Sorry, Mr. Rodriguez, that's it,
no hope! You might as well
hand over your wallet.' Hell no,
they'd rather be playing golf
and swapping jokes about our feet.

Some of them smoke marijuana
and are alcoholics, and their moral
turpitude is famous: who gets to see
most sex organs in the world? Not
poets. With the hours they keep
they need drugs more than anyone.
Germ city, there's no hope
looking down those fire-engine throats.
They're bound to get sick themselves
sometime; and I happen to be there
myself in a high fever
taking my plastic medicine seriously
with the doctors, who are dying.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Michael Morgan 21 August 2014

Tell itto the Ebola doc. This poem is miserably jaded.

1 3 Reply
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James Tate

James Tate

Kansas City, Missouri
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