By Cosette
Date: 29 June 1999

Prescription

to you i am ready to diagnose your sickness
something you got from a rolled carpet infested by viruses
maybe you crawled instead to walk
i bet you inhaled more dust from high-heeled shoes
coz you've been sneezing all the way here 
and by the time you knock at my door
your eyes are a garden of roses misted by dew drops
i've been meaning to ask "why are you here?"
i recall you say you hate the smell of clinics and hospitals
and you dread to have stethoscope on your chest
but you might be another fool 
coz you see no diploma hanging on my wall
(a license is not always a right to exercise)
you even brought a blank Rx sheet 
and a pen to write a prescription.
you see, I've been writing that many times
to those old visitors who consulted me before
they carried a communicable disease
later i realized i unknowingly wrote it for myself.
you got winter on your feet 
you got earthquake on your arms
how could i resist you at the sight of these?
i hastily wrote paracetamol and some antibiotics
but you crumpled it and got another sheet
and with shaking fingers you wrote what i always wanted to write for you
you gave it to me and said
"now i want your license number on it"



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