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sent for medication

i'm horribly hung-over, the shakes,
gas that would kill a dog
and peripheral flashes of jackhammer light.
the shelf is multi-colored insanity,
but i have to find the one that's safe to breastfeed with
and still give my wife some relief
from a flu that’s decked her ass bedside.
she wrote it out on the back of this old grocery receipt,
but the words go bird-shit in my mind
as my eyes grate painfully from note to shelf and back again.
you need to get this right,
i say to myself.
you get so little right for her.
i redouble my efforts,
squinting to a razor’s edge
and fighting off nausea
from the lightning bolts in my skull.
but it can't be done.
i meekly hand the note to the pharmacist
and she points it out.
i pay for the thing
and drop my wallet several times
before stumbling outside.
the sun is where its always been,
but my car eludes me
and the space between lampposts
seems to have been shrinking
for many years now.

11 Feb 07

Rated 8 (8) by 2 users.
Active (2): 7, 9
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It's a love poem!  This catches something very dark and sad, in my opinion.  Quiet desperation, and disappointment, and regret.  Anyway, I liked it.
 — unknown

thanks for reading.

 — unknown

If this rhymed, you'd be on to something. 7/10
 — Henry

I don't think that this need to rhyme. It says so many things just as it is, and still lets each reader come up with their own interpretation. I would just avaid some of the cliches such as "razor's edge".
 — dropsomenyc

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