Dear Friends

This morning the aspirin dissolved
in my throat before I could swallow it
and light jazz in the lobby
threw my whole nervous system
into a frenzied coil of woe.
Won't you help me remember
that there are people who want
to do good things for me
like scrub my back with
an exfoliant made of almonds and acid
or send me texts describing
the best day ever in North America?
I am looking into my methods of expression
and not one of them has done me
the service of salvation or even mild relief.
Dear friends, I am ready to be pounced
on like a football under a panther.