spring, 2019

"margaritaville" begins to sour

morning breath like rotting citrus

en route to be intensively outpatient

at the psychiatric hospital

every day for a month

I listened to that song in the car

mania plus time fogs up my memories

and dizzy from the antipsychotics

acrylic nails clutching the steering wheel

early in the day, 8 o'clock

I plan my late arrivals in advance

jimmy buffet and I always take a detour

when I walk in, carrying my breakfast

in a greasy paper bag from burger king

they hand me the form that asks "how much do you want to kill yourself?"

and I pretty much always say "not at all"