Thursday May 4th, 2017

The exercise:

Write something that has to do with: the wheelchair.

The weather today made me believe that we'd skipped spring this year and just went straight to summer. Hot, hot, hot.

It looks like we'll be taking a little break over the next two days to get some more cloud and rain, then it'll be back to sunshine and summer.

I think we've waited long enough for this bounty of blue skies.


A seat that moves
In ways his legs
No longer allow,
Wheeling his way
Down the streets
And through the crowds.

It's different,
Than how it used to be:
He's not as nimble
And, well, much
Shorter, as you can see.

But it gets him here
And gets him there
All on his own,
And he doesn't
Have to tell anyone
Where he's goin'.


Greg said...

Maybe in a post-scarcity society, when the robots do all the work, we'll all be able to pick our most comfortable kind of weather -- temperature, hours of full sunshine, snowdepth -- and we'll be gently shuttled from one home to another over the course of the year so that we get roughly the right kind of weather the whole year round. Then you can have your blue skies, hot days and cooler evenings, and I can have an iceberg throne :)
I like how your poem is gently upbeat without being ridiculously optimistic, and celebrates the change rather then bemoaning it. It's quite a touching piece really :)

The wheelchair
"Dr. Fraud! Dr. Fraud!"
Dr. Fraud, notorious pyschotherapist with a string of lawsuits to prove it, paused at the top of the steps. His office was in a New York brownstone and there were seven stone steps leading down to street level, and each step was cluttered with journalists and reporters both trying to keep their balance and attract his attention. There was no way through them without pushing some of them over. He sighed, and placed his palm firmly on the shoulder of the closest.
"Dr. Fraud! Jonathan Scansen from the Morning Post! Is it true that you were treating Lionel Trimble?"
Dr. Fraud paused, taken aback. Was this covered under patient confidentiality?
"His wife says you were."
"Oh," said Dr. Fraud. Well, if it were already known.... "Then yes, he was a patient of mine. He was habitually tardy and I don't feel that our sessions were as successful as they could have been because of that. He also showed signs of asthma but refused to take prescription medication for it. I did consider for a while that he might be, ah, mentally defective, but he did succeed in spelling out elementary words using colourful bricks, so despite the often profane content I concluded that he was just a little retarded."
There was a low muttering in the crowd of journalists and a couple of flashes of light as the photographers sought the best pictures.
"Dr. Fraud! Maddy Brown, Scottsdale Evening Press. Is it true that your office is on the top floor and there are no lifts in this building?"
"Well yes," said Dr. Fraud. He was puzzled, couldn't she have just come in and seen that for herself? "I like the view, and it's effective in the treatment of vertigo."
"And is it also true that Lionel Trimble used a wheelchair?"
Dr. Fraud smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I never saw him in a wheelchair," he said. "How he got to my office is his concern, but he was certainly lazy, and it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't walk."
"Dr. Fraud! Jonathan Scansen again. Is is possible that the signs of asthma you described were actually the sufferings of a man forced to climb to the top of your building when his legs barely functioned?"
"Dr. Fraud! Malcolm Eggs, Black Power Press. Is it true that your theories of race played a large part in your decision to tell Lionel Trimble that his inability to walk was not because of Polio, but because he was lazy?"
"Dr. Fraud! Maddy Brown. Is it true that you ordered someone in your employ to take Lionel Trimble's wheelchair away and destroy it because you decided it was making him lazy?"
Dr. Fraud shook his head at the sheer idiocy of the questions and decided that it was time to leave. He pushed the first journalist hard, and then took a moment to consider how they reminded him of dominoes.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, I'm down for that. Where do I sign up? :P

Thank you! I found it a difficult balance to find, so I'm pleased that I seemed to locate it.

I feel as though your opening represents how I feel about seeing the good doctor again, seeing as my first impulse was to type 'Dr Fraud!"

Anyway. A great return to form, and a nice bonus that this scene takes place in a location other than his office. Enjoyed the questions and how they revealed what actually took place. Plus, of course, Dr Fraud's escape method :)