“Living it up
at the Hotel
California” tortures her
with gray
memories. She’ll blame

it on the antihistamines.
The way coffee appears
in that translucent cobalt
blue mug. The way
each word laid down

suddenly looks foreign
to her eye. Backwards
is an unwanted side-to-side
motion she has no rudder
to stabilize.

She doesn’t purchase
the wobble
board. Gets no purchase
behind the joke.
Hypochondria never

took off
so gracefully. Never
mind the landing.