I wake up feeling a long way from home.
Chiding the good-natured old lady for
worrying so god awful about that dark-
haired child because it will come to pass
that youth will outlive her by a long shot.
And the old woman carries a clear plastic
bag filled with hundreds of pill bottles
slung over her shoulder like Santa Claus,
only she’s not happy. And I’m not happy
with the doctor because he’s a real dick.
Insisting “this time” you’ll have to pay
more than your co-pay. And I’m wearing
shorts in public that show too much leg,
still steaming over the twenty dollars
that dick demanded. And all (of this)
has detoured me from going shopping
with you at American Eagle Outfitters where
today we could take an additional 60% off
leggings made to wear any / where. And
now I get it. I’m a long way from home,
where even ‘there’ was never a hiding place
for too much leg, and not enough youth,
for too many pills, and not enough cash.
This is what I know when I wake at 5am.
Written for OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poets