The doctor sat flustered in his small doctor’s office,
His hunger grew and grew, and it made him feel nauseous.
For a self diagnosis, this doctor was cautious.
For all the hard sciences, his was the softest.
His office was neat, by a church with a steeple,
but his patients were words, he did not treat people.
Although the diploma on the wall read nothing of medicine,
He knew of a cure, to simply be fed again.
With no restaurants nearby and even fewer delivered,
His fate lay in his hands, and my how they quivered.
One thing would stop this hangry hand twitch,
He must gather supplies to make one epic sandwich.
He looked high, he looked low, for anything edible,
but the ingredients he found were short of incredible.
He looked left, he looked right, for supplies he could mix in,
No matter the direction, he had no sandwich fixins.
He could make a po boy on white
but that might taste vanilla.
with no bread in his sight,
he could use a folder, manilla.
He dreamt of a sandwich, a long submarine,
with yellow Post-It cheese, and dollars for greens.
What then could he add from his office for meat,
tear strips of brown leather from his worn office seat.
Punched holes and staples could season a hoagie.
And stuff a pen cap for a side of pierogi.
A croissant would be nice For a little French taste.
he had nothing to spread on it, but white Elmer’s paste.
On his desk he spotted a substitution for meat,
if he stacked pink erasers, it looked like corned beef.
oh how delicious it would be to make an open faced Reuben,
But any notebook he used would have too much gluten.
“I’m going about this all wrong,” he said with a clap.
“It need not be a sandwich! Instead try a wrap!”
To get through the meal, you’d really need moose teeth,
fried paper clips and thumbtacks, all wrapped in loose leaf.
His search became feverish, and he put on his blinders,
almost anything would do, to fill out his grinder.
He could layer note pads inside of a binder.
He’d add some cooked cat, if he could find her,
Mere moments before the doc succumbed to his hunger
he found something more tasty than white out and lumber.
He saw two ingredients, lonely but complete.
and he scarfed down a sandwich of Bologna on wheat.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 