The View from Up Here - July 23, 2026

from an extra-long wait

in a third-floor exam room

of my podiatrist’s office

I watch them being dropped off

in trucks, cars, motorcycles,

SUVs, and on foot, crossing

the circled entrance to the ER

and through the automated doors

from my window, the mountains seem

so close, the sky so blue, a few wilted

clouds float by on this

beautiful balmy morning

but each of their worlds

are cloud-covered and murky,

seen through scowls aimed at

dark blood or bodily misery

I look down at the circle

on my toe with its missing nail

an odd scene anyone could drive up to

with their eyes, while most wouldn’t

though the place is empty

and there’s plenty of parking