Call Mom. I’m depressed, so tell nurse
the doctor can change medication. I’m not

going there, I’m not crazy She knows
I mean that kind of medicine. Bipolar.

She finally gets treatnent now, trapped
in this nursing home. Tried walking?

No I reroute subject to sunshine, clouds 
gone, fresh air they’re freezing me to death.

I’m basically just sitting here dying Well, we’re all
technically dying the minute we’re born. She laughs.

I know what you were looking for when you
went through all my drawers, you little stinker

Don’t remember going through your drawers. We laugh.
You were looking for those pencils, I know. She means

the gel pens I gave her, Christmas, to color paper dolls
in the book who wore 1930s dresses like her as a girl.

She’s never mentioned those lacy pinafores, button shoes,
hair bows, but always remembers– I did something wrong.