William

October 1, 1998
Volume 15, Issue 10

William - Poetry of the Times

Six two, maybe 220,
hints of scarlet on his handsome cheek,
and a voice that slams
through my office door,
cursing AZT
and doctors who don't return calls.
"When the time comes, no heroics, okay?"

Prozac, Ambien, Xanax
give no relief.
He scans the Internet
for new treatments:
3TC, Cytolin, Kombacha mushroom tea.
We agree about morphine
at the end.
He asks me what to do,
this man who will do anything.
"Paint as often as before,
when your studio was a party,
your brushes loaded with paint."

He returns home
and stares out the farmhouse window,
spent as the weakened storm
in the north Atlantic,
kicking up waves,
drifting off
our local weather map.

© CME LLC
10/98

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