Sarah Daly
You collect dysfunction like
baseball cards:
the amoeba-like shoots of hypochondria,
the magenta-stars of agoraphobia,
the up-growths of anxiety,
and the demented daffodil’s face that is depression.
Plain obnoxiousness will stalk you
like a rabid squirrel,
and obesity will suffocate you
until you have nothing left to give;
suicidality will darken your door,
and even dare to enter,
once.
Forget it. The law has a way of
dropping those cards, scattering them,
destroying them, and minimizing them until
they are nothing but mush.