Nurse Claire

Early morning fasting-blood tests
Cast a vague tissue-paper
Feeling over the day, standing
On the porch of the nicely
Disguised clinic - a Terrace
On a street in Brunswick.
She opens the door, 8am.
I'm first in the cold lab,
Take off my coat, she takes
My form. Now she has
My name, written next to
Signatures, abbreviations and
Boxes for ticking.
I don't know hers, and she
Never says, yet I think
Of her as Claire, through
The rest of the moment,
Sitting in the chair, needle
Sucking earnestly blood from
My arm. 
Claire is Gentle, efficient.
We talk of TV awards and
Police Shootings, the radio news
Colouring our conversation.
Then the question - what are you?
A Student, of what you ask -
And I say, and I say 'to learn'.
I'm rare, she said, and elaborates -
'My problem is,
That I want to do everything'.
She goes back to study,
Every now and then.
Stuck full of holes,
Both arms pricked and taped
Back together, the goodbye
Is so between Nurse Claire,
And I, the student.
Thank you, good day
And good luck.