Maybe the flu
Chelmsford, Massachusetts, 1982
My bedroom windows face west and north.
The quilts I lay under feel heavy.
Mom steps in regularly as a metronome.
On the nightstand sits a little brown bottle.
Every dropperful opens my nostrils, then swells them later.
Voices echo on the walls of my ears.
My favorite foods have no flavor.
Everything seems larger and farther away.
Christopher Reeve plays Superman with a muscular nerdiness.
Even the oak trees hem me in.