Pressure

The cuff starts to swell like a heavy balloon

in the back of the store on a Tuesday noon.

The numbers are red and they’re climbing so high

while I sit in the booth and I wait for the why.

My pulse is a hammer inside of my wrist.

I’m trying to relax but I’m making a fist.

The machine lets out a mechanical sigh.

I just stare at the screen as the people walk by.