I thought the memo must be mistaken:

The Drug Lunch seemed rather brazen.

They probably meant Drug Launch,

so I went along the once

for the buzz and to find out what’s cooking.

 

Freeloaders fill up at the monthly drug lunches

on sandwiches, biscuits, biros and badges;

they put on a spread, a regular junket,

The Mental Health Team discover the munchies.

Evidence-based practice shows pies and pastries,

jam scones and canapés will not be wasted.

 

The calendar’s marked with an asterisk

for the juiciest date on the fixture list;

from the humblest Nurse Assistant

to the godlike Psych. Consultant

who would never allow his judgment

to be impaired or influenced

by the reps of commercial rivalry

and their cheap and shallow bribery.

 

So when the charmer from Big Pharma

comes to lecture on Zyprexa

or Efexor or whatever,

it’s all to no avail:

his integrity isn’t for sale –

though tomorrow’s  medication cards

may tell a different tale.

 

We watch a slide show and a text:

she asks for any questions next.

I’m the only one, I guess,

who’s observed the side-effects:

the tremors and the sweats,

the dry mouth and restlessness,

the sleeplessness and fatigue,

the urge to kill a colleague

 

 

for his readiness to reduce

(in the name of drug abuse)

all we are to the biochemical -

the Mental Health Professional

has abandoned couch and confessional.

No more seraphim and devils;

only measuring dopamine levels.