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Say yes to paxil
It was an all-new mood
when I first started taking it.
The little pink pills
were scary to me at first,
what if they bent my mind
and I became a shiny and happy
person with blank pupils like frat boys?
But Stacia winced again at my evil mood
so I tried it.
I went on the pill.
It took a couple of weeks
to start to kick in;
I waited for the sky
to turn fuzzy and happy,
for voices of coworkers
to twist into rhythm
like traffic that flows again
once the accident's
cleared.
Actually the
first effect the paxil had
hit me while I was dining with a client
and another lawyer at one of those places
where they sprinkle confetti on the plates
that are mostly bare, with tiny contraptions
of sculpted food in the center,
like origami,
or a rock in a zen garden,
it did seem a shame
to pull out the brussel sprout
and make the thing fall down.
Was that my first paxil insight?
I dunno.
I had a strange urge
to grit my teeth,
I spoke like a Joe Pesci mobster,
it was funny, chatting up the client
with my teeth clenched,
why not?
Was that my second paxil insight?
Oh also and my
dick shriveled.
But not all the way.
My third insight! But really
it was like my moods were in a jar
like fireflies that children catch,
the bug wants to go down
but lightly taps against the bottom,
I was drifting over the ocean
in a glass-bottom boat
looking down at the seaweed
floating by like lover's hair,
the glinty starry fish,
my dead aunt's moony face.
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