Gasping for stability
By Andrea Forbing-Maglione

Floating on a pond of lithium lily pads,
scattered thoughts water-ski on buoyant Buproprion.
My naked feet wade deeper thru sands of psychobabble,
pressing my arms forward thru fluid forgotten
Paxil promises
that I would get back all the memories
that I drank away when I was young.
I realize how I pay for it now…
Panting, I am starting to plead for each breath.
My arms are feeling very heavy.
“Somebody toss me a Prozac?
Can’t you see I’m drowning here?”
I can see the lifeguard there on the shore
descending from her perch at the intersection of Sanity and Normal.
As she approaches, she is starting to resemble
one of those amber-colored,
translucent, plastic containers that you can recycle
when they’re empty… Her skin is bronze like that.
As she gets closer, I fade away from consciousness…
but not before I ponder
whether this covered
by my copay.

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