no clocks in the methadone / prison /
rehab
just shuffling
mealtimes with plastic forks no knives
smoke breaks group time et
cetera
we line up and shuffle
szymborska stands
on the balcony in a pencil skirt
looking out over the row houses
maybe all this / is happening in some lab?
she asks
nurses joke about the methadone
as they dole it out they call it cocktails
in the med room they stumble
cackle aping its effects
this shit
makes you a zombie and then it
kills you I growl my face hard
they get
real serious
apologize
no clocks
just shuffling
the tables
always sticky
time for crafts!
says the nurse
keys jangling
we line up and shuffle
the world doesn’t take flight
the way dreams do says szymborska
she points me out
I am full and loud with dignity
