Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month, Everybody

DRUGSTORE by Joshua Bell

I finished the baggie of blue pills
that made the planets so tolerable.
The toy hula girl on top of my dresser

sends her regards, although she
doesn't dance until I touch her,

and Ramona, do you have any new pills
you're not using, any spare lows

for your only boy? I fell hard
for the mailbox, I sent flowers to

that mailbox, I went fishing
in the reservoir, but they'd drained it

twenty feet. Your lost lures glared
cheaply under the morning sun,

which was a plug in a reprobate
bathtub. Will we drain up

instead of down? If we go down
is that the first we're heard of?

Yes. I'm tired of the astrologies,
the icy pharmaceutical rites

that are enough for me. I grow old.
I encounter philosophy at night.

I’m concerned that what we have
is each other, for as long
as prescribed, and I can tell

by the skin beneath your eyes
that as far as I go, it's your word
against the universe and sleep.

1 comment:

Rachel Mallino said...

LOVE the poem. love it, love it, love it. Gosh, it beats the hell out of any of my stupid pharmacological poems. *sigh*