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enjoy this Janet Kuypers writing in the free cc&d 3/2/12 PDF file chapbook This is a Poem About of 2012 poems giving alternate meanings to everyday objects (a click on the front cover image or the title text to download the free PDF file)

This writing was accepted for publication in the 96 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “a Creative Journey” Down in the Dirt (v125) (the Sep./Oct. 2014 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the poetry book by Janet Kuypers: Part of my Pain Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book today:

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Hollow for so Long Already

Janet Kuypers
(01/24/12)

After dealing with a needle
too many years

I was told I could do good
give back to the people

if they just used another needle
to take more out of me

so, trying to be
the good Samaritan for once

I offered myself to them
four times

but they were never satisfied
with my identification

    you know, I’m doing
    something good for you

    and you’re the ones
    putting me through hell

I’m used to he needle
by now

I’ve avoided
the track marks on my arms

shoved the needle in once
saw my vein move out of the way

move the needle
watch my vein move again

since that felt good,
I switched to the other arm

and they keep talking
about the highs

but right now, all I feel
are the lows

as I sit here
time number five

trying to do the right thing
waiting, to let them

hollow my out

    haven’t I been hollow
    for so long already?

time to stare
at all the technicians

wearing white jackets
rubber gloves

plastic face masks,
saying it’s to be hygienic

    anything for them to avoid
    coming in contact

    with anything to do with
    me

#

what the hell am I saying,
“giving back to the people”

they say altruism is good
but they pay you money

to take
what’s inside of you

so without a job
for six years

I’m tired
of living on the dole

so let them
suck out my insides

just so I can afford
to get drunk again

#

I knew a man
with no job

who used to donate
whole red blood cells

when he found out
he could be paid at this place

he decided to stop
with donating blood

‘cause you see,
a man’s gotta survive

any way he can

#

I love playing
these waiting games

because here I am
at visit number five

reading their paperwork
verifying I don’t have AIDS

that I haven’t lived
in the Netherlands

    well, that’s what I’m from,
    but I can’t afford to visit

I mean, I don’t even have
enough money

to stay drunk enough
while I’m here,

if I’m giving up
my insides to drink,

you think I can fly
to Amsterdam

for over six months
to stay stoned?

so thanks for checking,
but no

I’ve had no blood transfusions
that I’m aware of

I wasn’t born
anywhere in Africa

and although there’s no test
for Creutzfeld-Jacob Disease,

as far as I know
I have no fatal brain disease,

    (my brain
    may be diseased,

    but I’m afraid
    it’s not fatal)

so while
waiting here

someone asked
for my two month old

Wall Street Journal
that someone gave to me

I said sure, because
newspapers may be dying

in the twenty-first century
but sometimes

holding those pages,
getting that ink

on your fingers,
can really be addictive

#

so in hour number three
of waiting

the news on tee vee
says the tax forms

for a presidential candidate
say they made millions last year

I hear this as I sit
in hour number three, waiting

for them to take my insides
so I can have money to drink

#

so finally, on the fifth visit
after waiting over three hours

they call me, paint
ultraviolet ink on my fingernail —

so I don’t donate
somewhere else today

then they check my vitals,
take my blood

ask me about my travel past
ask me about my military history

ask about what drugs I take
then send me to an RN

where after driving over
for five visits,

after waiting
for over three hours,

they explain to me
that they are taking from people

to help a certain kind
of sickness

by looking at my medication,
they see

I already have
that certain level of sickness

so even though
I’ve offered myself to them

after I tried for too long
they say they don’t want me

#

all I can think is: lovely.
at least

I didn’t miss
work for this

I can’t help myself
and apparently

no one else
can help me either

now I just have to
figure out

who will help me
with my next drink

 

(this is a poem about a plasma clinic)

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