dear Charlie,

[ notes from the hospital, 2002 ]

the carpet swims in here.
can’t say if it’s the meds or
just the pattern. when i feel
sick enough, everything swims.
flowers jump out of the wall &
float by. the docked canoe in the
picture begins to rock. pamphlets
for medications float by wearing
the faces of artificially damaged
women and complex, alien names.
Vraylar, Trintellix, & Dayvigo bob up
and down, sway in the wake. cool water
creeps up past my ankles. even windows
now seem painted on – trees, lightposts,
birds, bugs, rooftops, clouds, dumpsters, cars –
all of it’s fake as wax apples, as table settings.
and i, Charlie, i’m on a boat. afloat on a boat
out to sea, starboard to portside, bow to stern,
adrift, waiting for you to come back home to me.

you’re worth “wading” for, too,
Honest Chip