My friend went to the gynecologist for the first time. Afterwards we drank wine and reveled in the awkwardness of going to the doctor. Especially when it’s this close to comfort.

And more-so when it is your first time.

What follows is a poetic recollection of an awkward conversation. (Photo: Bruce Sorrell/ Flickr)

Come in cordially and await the wait,

Clicking tocks and fidgety friends stare fated,

At you, your mother, and at blank absorbent space.

 

Clearing of throat and shudders remote,

Fill the blanks as walls and chairs dotingly stare,

You stare back, at them, their occupants and forced community,

Some are; bloated, some fragile, some labouring, and some … are known.

 

Rushing and gushing and blushing bursts your body,

As memories and glances become shared twists,

Rosy cheeked and coyly shy, you are what’s next,

For pointing and touching and embarrassment pried.

 

This is your first time, “oh doctor don’t touch”,

But this is the purpose, this is the must,

Doctor has long forgotten that girls tend to blush,

 

Faster than fornicating frigid fondling is finished,

Quick giggle and grumble breaks tension and treble,

Shuffling of paper and Doctor’s smile emotes,

Stand up and shut up, who’s next and bemoanst.

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