The scrape of the snow shovel begins
just as my alarm rings.
The snow is heavy and ankle deep.
You should take my vehicle today, he says.
The studded tires stick to the road.
This is the safer route.
Be careful!
He doesn’t say I love you,
but I know it
anyway.
A poem, found in the comments of NUDGE. By Shawn and Chris
.
Your mind, has to be much better.
You ‘re not getting shock treatment too?
Are you?
Not electro-shock, at least
They’re trying to make me look crazy.
Every time i go to the hospital
Strapped to a bed…
You may be fine, but
perhaps the drugs are crazy?
Drugs are how i am…
Where does one end and the other begin?
Is a place ahead
separate from that identity?
desired?
willed?
(Is this a poem?)
No,
drugs are part of the poem
Life is the poem;
drugs are just your ink.
Shawn L. Bird 