A Squeeze On Me (Fun Poem 48)

I had a machine on my arm
and every half hour
it put the squeeze on me.
The Doctor wanted
a twenty-four hour monitor
on my BP.
Not the fuel for my car,
but the fuel in my body
for me.
This machine had a mind
of its own,
if it didn’t like
the first reading it got,
it squeezed a bit harder
until it got a better result
just to show me
that at it disapproved,
the problem was
there was nothing I could do,
but just put up with it
putting the squeeze
on poor old me.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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