At the ATM Machine.

I was just leaving the ATM machine
outside the bank
when this guy came running up wearing
a ski mask.
"What time do you have, buddy?"
"3:08," I told him.
"Drat." he said. "It closes at 3."
"But my watch may be fast."
He shook the door but
it was locked.
"Why are you wearing the ski mask?"
"What's it to you, buddy."
"It's the day before the
Fourth of July".
"Oh, well, if you must know, I forgot
to shave today."
"I wouldn't have noticed."
"Can you spare a fifty, buddy?"
"The ATM's broken," I lied.
"Nothing's going right today."
"What's so urgent?"
'My girlfriend won't put out unless I
take her to Lay Miserab."
"The musical on Broadway?"
"Yah, she's heard the tearjerker ad about the
ill-fated young lovers."
"Tell her it's really about a hungry man who stole
a loaf of bread and went to prison for life."
"That doesn't happen anymore, buddy,
they just send CEO's there these days."
"You better take the mask off while
you have the chance."
"What's it to you?"
"There's a policeman right
behind you."
"Take that mask off and raise
your hands, buddy.
Attempted bank robbery.
That'll get you forty."
"Do you know this guy?", he asked me.
I looked at the unshaven man closely.
"He may be a buddy of yours, but
he's no buddy of mine."


C Sherman K. Poultney 31 July 2002

The Visiting Nurse Tests His Vital Signs.

Minutes before the young blonde nurse arrives,
he gets back into bed and stretches out
stiff as a corpse at a wake.
He can hear her breathe as she
bends over him.
The touch of her hand at his wrist for his pulse
brings forth a sigh.
The warmth of her body as she takes his
blood pressure causes gooseflesh on that arm.
He opens his eyes to watch her
full starched blouse.
He rolls over on his side for her
inspection of his incision.
He takes under his tongue her
shaken-down mercury thermometer.
The red line shoots right up.
Her stethoscope inside his Johnny
causes him to catch his
breath and starts him talking ─ his
level of pain, his last elimination, her latest lover,
how many five-minute walks he can manage.
When she leaves, he stands up,
follows her perfume to the door, and waves.
Only two more weeks, he thinks and smiles,
only two more weeks until
he may “resume sexual activity.”



© Sherman K. Poultney 4 July 2003