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Jun 282010
 

by Anne Bromley


Parked in the pharmacy lot, waiting,

I read the beer truck’s bumper:

Responsibility matters,

and hear the rumbling

engine of an R.V. devoted to blood donors.

The vehicle’s sides implore passers-by,

Somebody’s life depends on you,


but I am here to pick up drugs —

one to kill the tick’s disease

that would slowly break down

the cell’s defenses, the other to level despair,

to bring me up for air from the sea

of ordinary sorrows.

I cannot give today.