Little white pill I live in the clouds
you send me here each day from
the dirt-infested earth you pull me
by the teeth into the atmosphere
the stratosphere the something-sphere
the just-pleasant- enough-to-breathe-sphere
I am wet and cold here I am weightless
and shadow-free here I am chemically
enhanced to drift on the jet stream
this is a daily dream a thought that turns
into a morning a feather that turns into
an afternoon a mote that turns into an evening
and lands on a wooden surface in my
bedroom spotlighted by the dying sun
and I lie there waiting to be bearable again
waiting to kiss my wife again waiting to kiss
my children again waiting to kiss the edge
of the universe again in the morning
little white pill I live for the clouds