Upon Missing a Dose of Effexor on Memorial Day
I sleep until one. The sun
is a joke. Mom needs to go to Walmart.
I remember the hospital with all the lights
buzzing. I flip someone off
in the parking lot. Today is a holiday
for hotdogs on the grill.
Monday, the weekend extended.
I leave my keys in the ignition, car running
for an hour. I ask Did I have a stroke?
The phone just keeps ringing.
I am so alone I say to a room
of people. Family under a red umbrella
around the newly-sanded picnic table.
Group picture on the count of three,
say Summer! A pot boiled over
is me. I am so over
weakness. The damn sun.
I hate this country, its tiny flags
lining the pharmacy's sidewalk.
We all sing Edelweiss, which leads to feelings
about feelings. I tell them just listen, don't try to fix.
I feel needles here here & here.
Mom draws labyrinths to calm herself,
builds them out of forks in the yard.
My love calls me paranoid.
Rum & lemonade
because we should be celebrating
fresh mulch underfoot.
I try to follow trains of thought
as if getting time & a half.
In my fantasies, I break
plates of food on the ground,
make animal sounds.
I miss my oblong orange pill,
the daily gagging it provokes.
We can't be apart.
I'm hella codependent
in order not to die.
There are so many things I could jump from.
They get catalogued without consent.
I can't control my hands.
Even when faultless I fixate.
Are they laughing at me?
My mind moves like a lawnmower
& I sweat crescent moons.
Natural deodorant doesn't work.
I like a maze when
it's about getting to the middle.
There is nothing to fear
if there's nothing to miss.
I say I feel Bad with a capital B.
Come sit by my bedside.
Wish for darkness, but it's always after
noon now. I look up
hours of operation. Remember
when I didn't go outside? No more
my sickness unspoken. I am
alive with it. I have to be
explicit in order to be seen.