Bicycles and Pianos

Cold coffee
slept all day
dreamed I was trying to ride a bike
and that I could play the piano.
I took it as real good proof I can do things
I never thought I could
and that old unforgettable actions
are always in some kind of peril.

So to contemplate that
I rolled over
and went back to bed
because I didn’t want to wake up
and go wait at the clinic
to refill anti-depressants
and be surrounded by the ill.

Cold turkey
on cigarettes and happy pills,
both can kill you
by not quitting one, or by quitting the other.

Between the two of them I’m surprised
that my body knows how to think straight
on most days.

Baristas take care of me though
they are the nurses of this tortured chassis
and they take very good care of me
with cups of delicious elixir
and a small smile
and a refill on the house.

The coffee they bring me is never cold
proof that others can take better care of me
than I can of myself.

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