i am rubber, you are glue

maybe one day i’ll stop complaining about this soulless retirement town,
but it’s not likely to be before our house is sold and we are in a galaxy far, far away.


they win.
they have beaten me to a bloody pulp, y’all.
there isn’t enough fonda left in me
to lure their heads out of their asses
because usually
when you beat something to death,
it stays dead.
and at this point i don’t want to anyway.
and you can’t make me.

so now I’m like eleanor fucking rigby over here,
keeping everything about me on the way down low,
leaving my charm in a cage next to my face that’s in a jar by the door.

but something crazy and spirited just happened!
now this NEVER happens to me here, which is the only reason i'm bringing it up.

i called the pharmacy to follow up on some confusion and to see
“what’s going on with my prescription?”

and without a beat, some displaced angel of god said,
“we sold it on ebay”

and with that,
I am saved.

for a little while, at least.