Four Blood Drive Poems

By Duane Anderson

Treats and Drinks

You could say that I am a paid volunteer,
not with money,
but I get to eat all the same snacks, fruit juices, and water
they offer to the donors after
they have donated a pint of their blood.
It is my morning snack,
lunch, and afternoon snack,
six items to choose from.

I guess I could lose some weight
if I truly decided to give them up.
Instead, I use them to maintain
my current weight.
Maybe one day I may try in abstaining,
though I know it takes a lot of effort,
but I having done something like this before
on other items such as candy and pop.
I know how it works,
so maybe it will happen.

It might be nice to lose some weight,
but the snacks are too convenient and tempting
for them to go unnoticed.
How can one refuse
when they call out to me,
“Eat me, consume me, we dare you,”
and their call has not gone unanswered.

The Book Signing

Some thought I was at the table
for a book signing
but there was only one book at the table,
the one I was reading.

Instead, I was sitting at a table
waiting for the next person to
show up for their appointment
at the blood drive I was assisting with.

It had been one hour since anyone had 
shown up for an appointment
and in between donors
I read instead of looking at the wall in front of me.

That was what I was doing
when he asked me what I was signing.
I thought he was asking what I was reading
not what I was signing
though I wish I had had a book published,
but if I did,
I knew this wouldn’t be the location 
for a book signing.   

If I had the talent of writing
the next great American novel,
or maybe not so great,
then it would have been written by now.
In the meantime,
I asked him if he wished to donate blood
since it doesn’t hurt to try to recruit someone,
but he declined,
so there I was again,
reading my book as I waited for
someone else to show up.

Playing With Fractions

Here I am for another six hour shift,
and right now I am eight twenty-fourths finished,
no make that four twelfths finished,
no make that two sixths finished,
no make that one third finished.
Today I am playing with fractions,
slowing reducing them to their smallest parts.
I could have said I was two sixths finished
since I started with six hours
and then reduced it to one third,
but what would the fun be in that.
I am using my mind, trying to put it to use,
or is that maybe losing my mind.

Some days, this being one of them, I humor myself
when time moves by like a slow drip,
giving me something to do
in the vast gaps between donors
arriving for their appointment
or someone dropping by as a walk-in.
Now, I am six sixths done,
or can I finally say
it is time to call it quits,
another day over?

Looney Tunes

It was one of those days
when things started out okay.
I had just started on my morning chores
when the phone rang
needing my help to fill in 
for another person at a blood drive.
I said yes to help out
and then Looney Tunes time began.

Maybe it wasn’t Looney Tunes,
but everything wasn’t going like it
was meant to be,
or at least that was my interpretation,
even though I was probably wrong once again.
and all the other things planned would now get delayed.
Changing clothes and putting a few things away,
I made the thirty minute drive to the site
and then things didn’t go as planned there too.

There is no donor appointment list
making it difficult to assess the needs for walk-ins
whether to accept all or reject a few,
so I accept all.
And then there is the radio.
It is tuned into some station playing music
that I do not care for.
I am sure it is some form of torture,
like being water boarded.
I would rather have silence,
but that was not my choice.

Then something changed,
the true entertainment for the day showed up.
One donor, bringing along her daughter 
heads straight for the snack table
eating four bags of cookies and fruit snacks
and topping it off with several drinks,
and I am not going to snitch to her mom
on what her daughter had to snack on.
If the daughter is not hungry at lunch time
her mother will surely figure it out.
In the meantime
the daughter first dances to the music,
informing me that at least one person is enjoying the music
other than the one who tuned it to that station.
And later on she sits on one of the chairs with wheels
and rolls across the floor,
another form of her dancing
with the chair as her dance partner.
Yes, the daughter is having a wonderful time
waiting for her mother,
and then the entertainment comes to an end
when her mother finished her donation,
and had a snack and drink for herself.
As they left the room,
I wondered what would happen next.

The donors keep coming and coming,
and because of still not knowing the schedule
I continue to let the walk-ins come in
until finally during the last half hour
when I had to turn people away,
those with appointments or not
because they had run out of bags
used to collect the blood.
Yes, it was good that the donors came,
and it was said that I had to turn some away,
but there it was,
my day in a Looney Tunes world.

Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE.  He has had poems published in Fine Lines, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, and several other publications. He is the author of  ‘On the Corner of Walk and Don’t Walk,’  ‘The Blood Drives: One Pint Down,’ and ‘Conquer the Mountains.’