I page through a ratty copy of People magazine
like it really means something, it flutters by
as I stare at my shoelaces in the pale green lobby,
faces, places, so slow, Sweet-N-Low…

The doctor comes in
ringing his hands like a Grey’s Anatomy actor,
“we counted 36 pills so far…
she’s going to be okay but a little sleepy”
and the number 36 echoes in my head
when one of those raw pristine moments takes me away
and “Chuck E’s in Love” comes in over the monitors…

Do you remember
when you made fun of me?
Do you remember
when I had a crush on Rickie Lee Jones
because she rhymed “Pantages” with “contagious”
and you told me to dump her
because Tom Waits loved her more?

Do you remember
when you made me eat lutefisk?
That nasty nasty yellow jello full of fishbones,
“Make your grandparents proud” you said
and my sister almost puked in her napkin,
arms folded, legs crossed, staring out the window
I did it only because you asked me nice…

Do you remember
when Dad finally left you
and you made me mow the lawn
and change the oil
and clean the gutters
because you said “I owed you one?”

I’m haunted now, dozens and dozens
of chalkboard kisses and cartoon monsters
and you lie there with a catheter as big as a horse’s leg
and I am forced to understand this new big finish
and I almost want to hit you, in your stupid nightgown
as the saline goes drip
drip
drip

… drip