Not another doctor’s office

with a receptionist flashing plastic smiles,

phones ringing

only to disturb the stupor

of patients patiently waiting

for entrance to the inner sanctum.

Magazines carelessly sorted by reluctant readers

fill the waiting minutes of anticipation.

Plants greenly alive and silkly bright

punctuate the drabness of gray on gray.

Forms to be forever filled

with irrelevant information

are spewed out with minor checks.

People half acknowledge your presence

with surreptitious side glances

suddenly frozen on eye contact,

while the radio taps out the latest crime

midst musical interludes.

It is now your turn

to listen to cracking bones

being freed from the bondage of pain,

after needles dance electronically

up and down your spine,

playing hide and seek

with knotted muscles.

Knowing fingers feel

the gnarled edges of vertebral pride

gently pressing and probing

to release the fettered spirit,

It sounds as if

it wasn’t such a wasted trip after all.