CHRONIC TARDINESS
by Mary Sullivan
I marked upon my calendar
with smug efficiency,
the time to go and see the doc
so he could study me.
I knew I’d be expected at
Two-Thirty on the dot.
Precisely at Two-Thirty-Three
I wheeled into the lot.
I flew out of the car and made
a beeline for the door.
(It’s not as if I’d never been
five minutes late before.)
I breathlessly explained about
how long the traffic took.
The lady at the desk just turned
a cool dismissive look.
"It really doesn’t matter,
he can’t see you anyway --
The time for your appointment
was Two-Thirty YESTERDAY!"