It all began with a craving for salt.
Salt was her dessert
and her descent.
Or maybe it started with starch.
Starch is sugar, anyway
but not quite the same.
Then came the craving for milk.
But she’s concluded she’s lactose-intolerant.
Ironic, considering lactose-free milk tastes like
And, anyway, she’s out of milk.
Of any kind
and all kind.
Water will (should) suffice.
So she went to get the salt.
She went to fulfill the craving
go get the salt from her safe place,
so many leftovers in the freezer.
Can she go only as far as her kitchen?
The cockroaches scattered when she turned on the light.
Hell no. I deserve better.
Call for Delivery.
But she can’t, cuz the plumber is owed.
She’ll think about it for a minute, or a million, or a trillion.
Such a seemingly simple decision.
She decides to go pee.
Buy some time.
Make some room in her body
in her mind, for thought and priority.
Do not dare, she says.
Do not dare you be impulsive.
As she approaches the bathroom, a cat meows from the front porch.
Well, crap, she forgot to bring in the litter box, she forgot to let in her cats.
She forgot, for a minute, just where in the hell she was.
She needs her cats.
They will clean her plate
they will comfort her as no human ever will.
(Did she really just say that?)
She turns from the bathroom door
toward the front door.
It is a forward movement
she is inviting another.
It’s the floor that gets her,
the foundation on which she balances
and delicately dances
a wayward floor board, caught on a wayward thread
on a wayward and worn crocheted slipper
that’s seen such better days.
She’s caught in a tangle,
falls forward and then back.
Head hitting heart
mind and body at war.
Now she’s asleep, everything gone.
Her mind is wiped clear.
Of thought and of memory.
A clean slate
a re-write so near.
She will be again.
A brand new person
Cash On Delivery.
No Refunds Allowed.