Tummy

There is no starting over
It doesn’t work that way
If screw-up’s at the first
It’s going to stay that way.

The Doctors do their best,
And then write up results
If errors or discrepancy
There’s really no recourse.

The doctors talk with others
And really like reports
If not already in the pipe
You’re not considered source.

Professions have a game they play
Assuming competence
And when in doubt they shut their mouth
Or sit there on the fence.

So doctors talk to doctors
As teachers did it too
Like when in class we messed it up
And then got labeled fool.

I finally got a doctor
Who read and listened too
Still, echoes of his collogues past
Came resonating through.

I’m sorely tempted to let go
And smile agreement too
But better yet stay vigilant –
Discrepancies pursue.

I cannot see mistakes when made
Or looked at carefully
But with two versions side by side
Discern discrepancy.

Success in life for me is from
Perspective, patterns lent,
Or small discrepancies within
Behavior aberrant.

When photographing weddings
It’s the coke-can I can’t see
But when comparing similars
I sense discrepancy.

I cannot leave a fragment
Of unexplained disjoint
Until I’ve shaken life from it
Or chased it to the point.

And so I leave this useless quest
No purpose to pursue
More vigilant I’m now by far
Focused for action sure.

When going to get my CAT results
I wondered ‘Stick or pie?’
A tasty cream of coconut
Still lingers on my sigh

I still don’t trust the doc’s reports
Behavior was quite funny
Their words all fine but pain’s still mine
Down there inside my tummy.

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