Monday, January 12, 2015


I stand at the door tapping on the glass.
Just for you I am here I try to say, but you.
You are busy eating a pear.

There is such a vastness to what he does.
It looks as if we're all blanketed by some type of magic.

I am starting to want again.
One month and you will get an award I tell myself.

I need to make an appointment.

What seems to be the problem, m'am?

Well. Um. I think I need a shot like B12 or something.

Okay. Why do you feel like you need B12?

It's just that I sorta face planted into my pillow when I got home from work at about 5:00 and I don't think that's normal, right? Because you know. People actually live in the evenings. Right? 

Makes a note in a chart (note can never be erased): Patient wants to know if people live in the evenings. Suggest psych eval.

Next appointment.



I see here that Doctor Literal has suggested you think people don't live in the evenings.

Listen. That was just a figure of speech, you know, being colorful or creative or cliche. 

Oh. So why do you think you are here?

Because I was being colorful or creative or cliche.

Makes a note in chart (always, forever but not really because who cares): Smart ass. Prescribe medication to dull speech.

Never mind.

When I first saw what he wrote I pretended my heart broke.
Nobody cares, he screamed.
And nobody did because nobody said anything.
Then I watched as people passed by and they were talking about what was happening in their lives.
Nobody cares, he repeated.

Then I saw it.
A slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.
the slyest of grins.
I walked away.
Our eyes never met, but I still remember what I felt.

His smile was a relief.
It wasn't a cry for help.
It was a shout for freedom.

Today I am grateful that people do care and take care of each other.
And that guy, I am grateful for his influence as well.

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