Dusted and Doubted My Future

A record of attempting to function

Diffuser blasting eucalyptus.
Took my Ritalin but still can’t focus on anything
but the random bottle of half-empty glass cleaner
glistening in the morning sun on the deck outside.
Everything in its place.

I did important things today.
Photographed the cat in the small Amazon box.
Made fresh squeezed OJ and made my bed.
Dusted and doubted my future.
Admired my nails, growing so long
despite my diet of tequila and pizza.

Jacuzzi vagina water problems.
Old, faded, chlorinated bikinis drying in the summer sun.
My loathsome neighbor with his bald, arrogant head.
My other neighbor who’s a famous painter.
His Cocaine Cowboy.
His English accent.
His Mao Tse Tung wallpaper in the upstairs bathroom.
How much he hates the squirrels.

An open road in the Mojave.
Brown and bumpy.
Endless dips. Vertiginous.
How I don’t like crowds or roller coaster rides
or small talk.
How often I say “wow” and “crazy.”

The sugary orange soda by my bed.
Warm, lacking carbonation.
Covered by a coaster with a beer ad.

Feeding swans by the river.
Making flower bouquets
out of old pantyhose and wire.

You enabler, you.