Medicated
It is Christmas time, again
I am an errand running
Supermarket slave with
feet tapping, eyes downward
I can't find any scuffmarks
on the polished desert floor.
Check-out line impatience
eavesdropping on stupid
pointless conversations and
f#*ked up weather mawing
I long to strangle the cashier
who offers to help me out
to the car with my groceries
Secret sideways guilt
I smile and say "no thanks"
then I trudge out to the
empty desolate parking lot
Maybe I will feel okay
if I up my medication
just for the holiday
Soul sucking family dinner
too much eating and drinking
as thoughtless words careen
into a minefield of pain
The words are swallowed
by the ceaseless coughing
of my phlegmatic Auntie Depressant
Blinding headache highbeams
Sea to skyway driver
stuck shuttling relatives
home from the holiday
I scan the road ahead
and pretend I can't hear
their wicked whispers and
constant bickering
Nagging backseat demons
The car reeks of old lady perfume
as angry words stab into
the back of my brain
If I jerk my steering wheel
a little to the left
how different things would be.
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