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.