October 16, 1977 (I was 32)
After a dozen years all he could hope to be, was clever.
Most often his work was simplistic, even superficial. He was a
General Practitioner who recorded symptoms, wrote prescriptions
to treat the most predominant manifestations. Not what you
would call a definitive diagnostician. He wrote poems because
he could fit it all on one page. Direct doses, the pharmaceutical
middlemen eliminated.
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