my friend

this time you announce your arrival
in the small cavity between my breasts,

a twinge, a little pain, a note of music
that evokes far more than it should,

i never know when you will come again
or how long you will decide to stay,

today is rare; i heard you open the door
and i welcomed you as you drifted in,

they say i could rid myself of you, the
dullness of Prozac, i am quite sure,

would make me even-keeled and a
far less interesting sort for you to visit,

i could even go natural, st.john's wort
the label proclaims would "enhance my mood,"

i think you scorn those of bubbly chatter,
if i surrounded myself with people and action,

over the din you would surely shrink away,
and leave me with the balloons and pink bouquets,

dear friend, do not leave me, you are my muse today;
but please please go quickly far far away!


Copyright 1998 The Courage of Our Confusion. All Rights Reserved. Comments? E-mail
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