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Micro-Bullets
A few weeks ago I stopped
smoking pot as an experiment.
Easier than I thought-
I’ve had practice. Depth
of feeling starts coming back
like micro-bullets to the cranium
so invisible to the naked eye that
every corner shields a perpetrator.
Part of me likes it, this blitz of feeling
because it turns out I’m masochistic
like that and feeling a pinch dead
gets boring after awhile. Creeps
up on you like an unwanted flat-
mate on a sock by sock flit
to your only spare room and you didn’t
even notice for the cupcakes.
But granted, everybody’s different.
Did you know that the worst
time to have a heart attack
is during a game of charades?
Demetri Martin said that.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t
have laughed.
Yesterday I did.
Copyright ©
Erin Beckett
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