PLAYING DOCTOR

A small drop of dark red blood

sent us running to doctors,

riding an elevator

that never reaches any floor

filled with doctors in white coats

all staring at the ceiling humming

like a barbershop quartet,

stethoscopes around their necks,

sacred amulets with healing power.

Faces all facsimiles

of early grade school classmates.

That big oaf looks just like the devil

who chased me after school

whining to the teacher

that I had more days off than him.

The dark haired beauty could

be the girl who lured us into closets

for endless rounds of smooching

and a lucky peek at the mystery

behind her fluffy pink panties.

A dermatologist, she now dispenses

emollients recovering the glow of skin

just longing to be touched.

The fragrance of musk and ambrosia

has the elephant muth in men

charging toward women of any age.

No longer playing doctor or pirates

with wooden swords,

now they’re pledged to keep you going

palpating every vital organ like a virgin

groping in the dark.

Sooner or later every doctor will be

a willing patient of other grown up kids.

M.P. Ehrlich