Wipe - by Debbie

I've been in this line
for over an hour.

No one talks...
what's the point?

Paper rustles
as we each reread
the notices received
a month before,
with a date and time
and a warning
to not eat or drink
the morning of the Procedure.

It'll be quick, they say.
Just a tweak
of synapses,
won't hurt a bit.

And then voilà:
no more grief
no more stress
no more angsting
no more

Can't wait
but look:
it's my turn now.
Step up now,
hand over my docs.

Wet on my cheek...
where did that come from?
My hand goes up to my face
but then falls
because now I'm thinking
just maybe
it will help me remember
help me
remember