Grocery List for a Long Goodbye

I choked on a sob in mysoup today, its carrot ginger heatan unspeakable kindness.

These days, I findthat warmth canoverwhelm me (even sippedfrom wooden spoons).I well up and blur with thered window rain in ahot-seated Subaru.

When I was seventeen andpre-prescription, I used to lieclothed in the creek, in itseasing-open elbow, whereneighbourhood dogs wentto drink. I think somehowwet denim gavesense to my sickness, its bluean explainable weight.

These days, I findsleep sinks like a silver dollarin the sand. I dream I’m runninglate to a fundraiser. I’m the musicalact. Then a cat digs its clawsin my face. Dream pain iseasier, rivering through.There’s no sense in whatthe sieve keeps, justsolidity and size.

These days, this city feelssmall. There’s a curly-headed womanon the bus, on a loud phone call:“I searched all overhell’s half-acre, and stillno spring onions.” (Andhaven’t we all?)

I can’t take the coldin the river anymore. I don’t knowhow to tell my mother thatthere’s no way to know if your jean-weight willsink you until you’realready in the riverand that’s why Ican’t have children.

These days, everything’s easyto swallow. Two red pills, one cream-hued.A soy latte. Three to eight crossword gamesso I don’t hear the news. Sometimessincerity makes my stomach hurt, likea sweetness I can’t quitedigest. I guess that’s whyI smile like the cat; why Ican’t have children. The claws.

I can’t let the coldtouch my teeth anymore. I likedpoker games best before I knewwhat we were playing for.

Am I river or absenceof rock?Am I right? Do Iwant to be?