White Coat Blues

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues.

My coat is so darn heavy,
Something in every pocket,
that when I put it on,
my neck pops out of socket.

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues

My coat has got some colors
that certainly ain’t white.
Not sure when they got there,
and that just don’t seen right.

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues.

My coat is stained with coffee
And there’s vomit on my shoes.
Oh, you want to slow down?
Like that’s something you can choose.

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues.

There’s a sweat ring roung my collar
and dark rings round my eyes.
You talk about the weekend,
and a part inside me dies.

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues.

My coat smells like a gym sock.
I won’t apologize.
They only bought us one this year.
They ran out of supplies.

White coat blues,
got them white coat blues.

My coat keeps getting older
And so, I guess, do I.
A sobering thought enough
that also molifies.

For when I’m an attending,
in not so much time now,
I’ll have at least two white coats,
and they’ll be clean, I vow.

Liam 'Spark' Clark, MD grew up in Wyoming and graduated from Reed College in Portland, OR with a degree in biology but a transcript heavily weighted with humanities. He enjoys theater, sculpture, writing, and dance, as well as petting dogs

Rubor Participation
2020 poem, "White Coat Blues"