The adult daycare sanitarium
for the full-time
and part-time adult insane
opened at eight o’clock each morning
A long line of glum faces
extending from the fleet of
white van trolleys to the front desk,
where you signed in
and they handed you
three loose stale cigarettes.
Two group sessions drooled on
in monotonous stupors until noon
when we dined on
Thanksgiving turkey
and imitation cranberry slivers
with a teeny weenie
2 percent milk Dixie cup wash-down
One more group—a choice between
substance abusers or finger paints
followed by
a snack and caffeine free soda break
all of us wearing
our broken people costumes
Our deflated hangdog face masks,
medicinal vapors
pouring out of them
on the outdoor picnic benches
drenched in bitter sun
sipping on what
amounted to bubbling sugar water
Stowing away our
meds in our cheeks
for a stoned winter
Some of us made it,
and some of us will be back
for another round
1 comment:
Great stuff - three (stale) loose cigarettes - I think I'd lose stale - it's superfluous and interrupts the flow.
Otherwise cool.
Post a Comment