Morning Joe is a good place to start.
Turn it on and listen
to him describe
politicians as men
banging on their highchair trays.

Bang on your highchair tray.
A tantrum is in order when
you’re spitting up blood, when
they tell you your killer
is now in your lymph nodes.

Eat pizza and yell at your wife.
Her concern is another burden on you,
when you have your own feelings
completely in check.
She is the one who is emotional,
who is acting out, who is frightened
and has questions.

Lie still when they put the wired cage
over your head for the brain scan.
Send your wife to the cafeteria to sip
bitter coffee, to wrestle with the
cellophane that won’t open
her cupcakes.

Bang on your highchair with a big spoon.
Split the cellophane on your wife’s cupcakes
with such violence that
the cupcakes fly out of their wrapper
upside down on the cafeteria table
where all the germs are.

Believe that the frowning men
on the tumor board will cure you
exactly as it happens
in a Julia Roberts movie.

See the faces of your grandchildren
on the warm steamed glass
while you shower.
Cry silently beneath
the roar of the pitiless water.