Lauren Williams wrote a poem about the sad anthropologist
spurring me on to write one about my mate, Arthur,
the sad podiatrist I see three times a year. We’re like mates.
When someone’s been intimate with your feet for such a stretch of time
what else can you call the relationship?
Usually he’s perky, upbeat but today he’d downcast even though I praise
him for finishing my feet in record time.
Just think, I say, you earn more in three minutes than most people earn in an hour but he protests that it’s not about the money.
When I ask him what it is about, he blurts out the old abstracts: Recognition, Glory, Adulation.
Wow, I thought, where’s this coming from?
And he says: “When did you last read a best seller about a podiatrist? Watch a Reality Show called, ‘The Good Foot
Doctor’. See a film with Tom Hanks, Chris Hemsworth, De Niro playing a podiatrist?”
He has a point. I sympathise with him, then he shakes my foot — he always shakes the right one — and I head out the
door, hoping he pulls his socks up before the next patient comes in.
pic courtesy of Wikipedia
John Malone 