the city

12/19/15

I'm at a gas station,
running from the rain.
The McDonalds seems inviting,
crowded too.

I don't know if it's because I'm sleepy,
or because it's cold,
but nothing else is real to me
except the cup of hot chocolate in my hands.

The family right next to me,
they're real too.
They're not mine,
but they poke their way into my wandering bubble and peek inside.

The kid hums to herself while she plays with the toy that came with the Happy Meal,
and her mother smiles softly as she finishes her food.
There's nothing extraordinary about them,
but maybe that's why they strike me.

I'm stuck in one of my realms again,
and I don't feel the things I touch.
The table is there, but I don't perceive it as what it is.
I see it as a brick, cold and heavy.

I'm in an office now,
sterile and white.
All that's real is my book propped up against my thigh,
and the squeak of my sneakers as I rush forward.

I am shaking,
unfamiliar with the things around me.
My senses are heightened,
and I can hear newspapers turning, the wheezing breaths of the man beside me.

I'm led into a room that smells of coffee,
where I hear the chatter of the meeting taking place right beside me.
And I feel safer now, because I am alone,
and I've learned to thrive when I'm on my own.

The car ride home is filled with music,
and the things outside my window seem real to me.
Trees and fields emerge out of the haze at lightspeed,
but I am floating.

***
2/19/16 (Epilogue)

I am in the same gas station,
though the thoughtful silence has left me.
Boisterous laughter accompany me now,
with songs to fill the quiet in between.

Reality has evaded me again,
and everything is a dream once more.
Maybe it's the hot chocolate I had this morning,
or the sickly sweet syrup I poisoned myself with.

Maps and road signs don't make sense to me,
and the numbness has settled in me again.
The warmth of my sweater isn't enough
to keep me from disappearing into the arctic translike state I'm so familiar with.