The pharmacist is in love,
Sculpting pills into heart shapes,
Her tongue all homeopathic honey
As she names each of the sick in line,
All of their medicine mislabeled, the dosage
Written in poetry: “Take it all in
Slowly,” “Apply until your eyes
See what has always been there.”

Somebody told me
the Doritos guy
died recently.

Although I wasn’t
paralyzed
at hearing this news,
a sadness overcame me,
one that leaves
a crumbling, artificial
powdered-cheese sensation
in my throat,
with bags of guilt to follow.

Ever stick a vibrator
in your mouth, bite
down, and pull
the trigger?

maudlin strains sift
Into my thin-walled room
God of Nepal nights

There’s a colon between our two
separate parts. Let’s add a semi in there
to make us depend upon each other.
I want to verb you, so we should really
dash out of here, punctually,
once they give us our sentence.