Cracka Wackles

Guest post written by my mom, "Muffinsmama".

What time? 1:30—

hot valet boy, big muscles
automatic door.
That’s a lot of people:
sign w/ 54 names/ how does anyone find anyone?
Crowded, how did that lady get so big?
Is that a skirt or tablecloth?
Geometric print carpet in blues & browns.
Cracka wackles.
Lump in my throat,
comb-over lady, Date of birth, please.
Germs everywhere/ don’t touch anything
could get the fucking black plague in here.
Crazy lady, stop looking at me:
I dont want to see the doctor, you shouldn’t make me.
I'm not a crack ho.
Cracka wackles.
I’m free to go.
Let my wheel chair go/let me go.
Japanese Hiroshima doctors.
Cracka wackles.

Christ, think of something else:

text Jessica,
fuck I miss him/ damn,
don’t think/ stop thinking.
*Dwang* - Larry's gonna have chemo shit, poor Larry.
Cheesburger.
I love him/no, you fucking don’t/just stop thinking about him.
Why do they put those fucking fake trees around. Fuck: at least dust it.
I wonder if I'm gonna lose my mind in here.

White haired lady,

graceful movements/ maybe she was a ballet dancer.
Bubble bubble hum, water runs.
*Dwang* - Mom, you should write a poem.
Fuck, I need hand sanitizer.
Yeah write a poem/ stop thinking about Him.

Black lady, 

almost asleep in her chair/mouth hanging open.

Cracka wackles.
Red & gold upholstery chairs:
I bet they are covered w/germs.
Ho's can’t make me see the doctor.
Get me outta here, I wanna go eat.
Cracka wackles.