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.