I see Margot two or three times a month,
tell her about my fear of being hunted,
being rounded up for running out of pills
in the middle of the night. Mostly, she
waits patiently while I caress my lies or
opt, instead, to spend my time describing
the things I find lying on the frozen lawn.
Sometimes when we talk I think about how
I left the other doctor high and dry, owing
him thousands of dollars, and I remember
saying goodbye to Trudy back on the ward,
watching me go and asking if I'd gotten the cure.
Yesterday I let my watch read 11:50 all day long.
Late in the morning, something like snow came
spitting down, overwhelming my wipers.
Crossing Main near midnight, I saw Margot
through the windshield. I wanted to get out
and tell her that I've lived before, tell her
that the exterminators are coming around
to gather us up, that I need to see her now
for an hour or so, need to have some coffee,
need to get and take my pills, go home,
scrape the baby off the frozen grass.