Sick America

Mike Amado

(A rotting corpse with a fresh dab of lipstick in a

New Lincoln with a handicap plate)

As if car shows in Wally World parking lots aren't bad

Enough . . . my chain-pharmacy now has


Little, furry bunnies and lab rats picket. And the high glucose

Walker brigade already have to sell their livers for heart pills.

(Maybe sell the new Lincoln to purchase new lipstick.)

A big commercial actor says…

"I'd tackle the tough disease;” but not of course the not-so-tough,

Break-your-leg, catch-a-cold dis-eases. They have been ‘conquered'

(Dust under the rug); but not healed.

Go for the big ones first and aim your high-tech guns,

Earphones dampen the blast with la-la-las. Miss the target,

A.k.a prevention, no one's listening until too late.

I've seen modern medicine fall on its face

Like an asthmatic sales rep. receiving CPR from

From a CPR dummy.

Doctor says, "That's all that can be done now…

Take your pills, come back next month."

I aim my big guns: Doctor, what about AIDS affecting everyone?

Tumors growing faster than jobs? And renal patients waiting

To fail and rot? But there are ONE THOUSAND NEW

BEAUTY PRODUCTS to the band aid rescue.

My disability check is direct deposited to my

Pharmacy. But if I can fill up a paper cup with coins I can

Buy some new beauty cream to cover up the scars,

The sick eyelids and medical beatings a.k.a, "treatment".

I'm thinking, "Why do I think this is all my fault?"

(I expected the "M" word and got the reverse.)

Get over it! All of it...

There is no cure for being human!