Call Me Mr. Hollywood
I wasn’t wearing sunglass to look cool,
or to disguise my identity to hide from the police,
not that anyone would think that I was
one of the local celebrities on file.
Call me Mr. Hollywood if you must,
but I was just protecting my eyes from the sun
as I sat in a room in a building
facing the east, and with it being early morning,
the sun shone brightly, glaring through the windows,
with no sun screens or shades to block out its rays.
Forgive me, but I didn’t want to look into the sun
as I lay on the bed while I donated unit of my blood.
I guess I could have closed my eyes and put on
a blindfold, as if I was waiting for my execution,
but I had a pretty good feeling that I was going to live,
though maybe ruin my eyesight if I continued
looking into the sun.
Yes, call me Mr. Hollywood.
I was one of the blood drive’s celebrities for the day.
Captive Audience
The blood drive started late because of
a mechanical issue with the van,
and as the donors showed up for their appointments,
six people sat, waiting for the blood
drive to begin as the staff continued setting up,
and with such a captive audience in front of me,
I felt I should do something to entertain them.
I could have tried reading a few of the new poems
I had written to see how well they were received,
a trial rehearsal for me to an unsuspecting test group.
I knew I didn’t dance or sing very well,
so I didn’t give either a try,
and I didn’t know any jokes, but they could look
at my face and laugh out loud if they wished.
In the meantime, they stared into their phones
to keep themselves entertained as they waited,
but a short while later, I changed my mind
and decided to do a little tap dance as I got up
to stretch my legs after sitting for far too long,
to no applause, to an audience now filled with strange looks,
wondering how someone like me had escaped
the looney bin, but all I can say, it was my day off,
waiting for my moment of notoriety.
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