was it so wrong of me to deliver
the dozen krispy kreme's -
the glaze, colored revelry of sprinkled
visually increasing glycemic index's -
to the doctor's and nurses
on the second floor?
never mind the diabetic patient
waiting in the lounge for the news
on the numbers,
anxious for the results;
pondering through the haze
of the retinopathic glaze.
never mind the man,
arteries sludging along
whose lipids have waged war
upon the gentle beat;
he won't mind
pass him a fritter
and a little something for his liver.
~ j. allen
