A line snaked around the corner of an old barbershop
Walled with mirrors
Black and white tiles
In the corner a nurse is holding a mallet with melting
Blue ice packs poking out of the casing
Like a backhand in tennis she deftly hands over the needle to the Dr.
Who is sporting 2 hairy, shaky forearms
Misjudging his target
-an 80 something lady sitting the barber chair in a reclining positon-
We see half of the precious serum spilling onto the floor that
Is already puddled with a small lake of serum and
Hundreds of vials, some broken, strewn on the floor
(Modrna, Astra, Sinovac, Phizah)
Is this the Center of a crazy Miser?
My turn has come
The nurse throws me toilet paper, points to the floor and barks,
"Hands and knees!"
I dutifully seek to soak the serum on the floor
It smells of nano-particles and m-RNA
I hand back the saturated ball of TP to the nurse who
Is now donning yellow latex gloves
She squeezes it into an empty vial and
Pulling out a needle form a haystack
Slowly fills the empty cylinder
Hands it to the Dr who is pushing the lady
Off the chair and
Now the hairy forearms wave me to take a seat
And I hear my shoes cross the wet floor.
