Malmalady

It is now that I realize
that you held it like a little trophy
only third prize, but yours all the same:
Diabetes. Can make your feet drop off.

"You're putting on the pounds," he says
in a half-weeble, half-blinded way.
Still, I can't berate this sick, sick man;
He only wants to impart this knowledge
His trophy: Four tablets a day;
Herbal Teas and Sugarless sweets.

"I guess it might help your weight too."
"Yes," he says.
"I don't really want to be
rotating injections around me.
People at the factory disappear
into the lavatory eight times a day."
"I suppose you're lucky," I say.

He says yes, he's overweight
but it's also in the genes.
I'm sure your parents
as they fed you up
thought only "Eat you're genes my boy
And maybe, maybe
you'll be a diabetic one day."

You seem so wide-eyed
when you mention my wife
who said
"He's a lecturer at the college
part-time."
It was my own choice.
It didn't just happen to me.
So hence I need no pride;
Just the simple knowledge I try
Fail sometimes, keep going
And maybe, if I just keep on trying
I will never be a feature in The Diabetic Times.