I've passed the homeless on the street,
Wondering if today they'll eat,
And I cry, Why me?

I know plenty who attend AA,
And many who didn't make today,
And I cry, Why me?

I know there's millions unemployed,
As dwindling aid keeps them buoyed,
And I cry, Why me?

They're lonely and they're isolated,
The throngs, apart and dissipated,
And I cry, Why me?

Many friends and family die,
Yet still I cry, Why me?

Why me, indeed, a plaintiff wail.
Why me? Why me?
Until I fail.

The Receptionist's counter is too close to the forever waiting room.
The Nexts are trying their patient penances;
Some seem to read;
Others appear to listen to the television;
There's no dialogue,
Except for the Dr.'s assistant,
And, the Receptionist.
Any conversation would be idle,  and not heard anyway.
They sit on pins, listening for their names.
Super Tuesday held no kryptonite for Super Joe, remarked the talking head.

The Dr. will see you in three years.
I fist pump and spin to leave,
Seeing a blur of corralled, bowed, preoccupied heads.
A frail face lifted up, and smiled for me.
Happy for me.
Truly the best medicine.

if i cannot sing
      and cannot touch
i will prove that
       i can heal myself
through the act
       of healing others

Read the instructions carefully:
Begin at one, go on to two,
Although, if logic’s not your thing,
Just tear the rule book into shreds
And visualise perfection now
Using the ideas of ideas

Beyond mortality and death,
Build foundations of cotton wool
Clouds as white as nothing known here,
Blend with new brightness,
Wipe clear shades of uncertainty
Away into whatever time

Becomes in this new place and then
Find things to occupy your time:
Balance pale porcelain cherubs
High and thread cold stars in millions
Above them. Harp with purest notes
If you are musical, if not,

Give oxygen to souls in need,
And shelter on this white mountain
Those bewildered victims starting
Without choice to spend infinity
Themselves believing nothing more
Than self and suffering.

Sometimes I think
This must be too good to be
True, but I hope that’s just anxiety speaking

Because you’re someone I want to keep

As a young man in love,
I was selfish.
I walked with you,
I shared food,
I slept with you,
It was my insatiable thirst;
Desire, and
I needed to gulp it,
At any cost,
For survival.
Perhaps you felt likewise.
I didn't know.

Now, being older,
That
Which I do
Out of love,
I do for you.

Cushier near
The pillion
In tatterdemalion
Uncomfortable
By the hitchhiking
hire
Laying fire to
The streets of admirers
Carrying a man in need
Expecting to be in a radio station
Before next week
It's gonna make really weak contention