Sundered, my thumb?
No, hurts, though, as if smashed—ow!
Succor for thumb
will swirl squirted juice around.

Doc vows to me,
“The problem is the wear and tear.
First make it lidocaine-numb,
then—plunged in your thumb…
put it right in there.”

Numb first my thumb,
which hurts a lot—make the pain go ’way!
Word bromides come…
don’t tell me to “have a nice day.”

Doc says to me,
“Cut the kibitz—
the complaining is getting old!
Why don’t you just become mum
so I can thumb-plunge.”

“Do it, alright?!”

Stuck in my thumb—
lidocaine tine’s sharp, and it too hurts.
“Doc, what the f**k?!”
is the epithet that I blurt.

Doc says to me,
“It’s like a sailor that you swear.
To such words my ears ain’t numb.
Please, nix on the “f**k”s;
I want no blue air.
Take it easy, there.”

“Doc, pardon me,
I didn’t know that you would care
So, I will lay off the “f**k”s,
It’s more than my share
I frequently air.”

Readies the spike.

Stuck in my thumb
will be juice that will make me well.
But I succumb
to the bad muse, and bad words I yell.

Profanity, yeah, is what I said;
doc frowns because I’ve spoken a slew.
He plunges into my thumb—
the pain is undone.

I feel alright
till the bill;
then I’m ill.

Doc’s pain-freed me,
but he’s fleeced me.
What a high price!
In teeth’s place is fiscal pain!