My gaze pierces the clear plastic window of the pink donut box,
scuttling like a crab across the cardboard floor, scouring the corners
but finding only yellow crumbs and a few clumps of white powder.
For a moment my vision sticks
in a single glistening smear of dark chocolate frosting.
There are so many other things I’d rather be looking at
but I can’t bring myself to reel in my attention.
I just keep peering through the square aperture
into that dull little room, desperate for distraction,
until the sun suddenly bursts from the clouds,
glazing the wavy cellophane, turning it into
a sheet of solid gold, and I find myself locked out,
forced to squint and turn my face away
...just as, hours later, I’m jolted awake
by the sound of the receptionist calling my name,
and I look up to see the smiling aide appear
from around the corner, wheeling in the gurney,
ready to deliver me down that long corridor
of which I will see nothing but the ceiling,
my sight dragged unwillingly along, gripping each
fluorescent light fixture, clinging to every sprinkler,
digging into the cracks between the tiles.
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