anxiety

i am dying
slow, inevitable
each visit
to the doctor's
a litany
of embarrassment

'how much time?'
i ask
'depends on you'
he says
'can you prescribe me Adderall?'
i ask
'why would i do that?'
he says
'why wouldn't you?'

i just sit
there
staring
at a lithograph
of a lighthouse
being crushed
by a rogue wave

doc stares back

i sigh
he sighs

'you have 30 years, maybe'
he says
'how's that?'
i ask
'to live ... 30 years'
he says
as he scratches
on a Rx pad
tears the page
hands me the script

'what's this?'
i ask
'you have ADHD'
he says
'it's a bitch'
i say

i pull on my pants
he zips up
i pause at the door
but say nothing
the nurse
at the desk
gives me a smile
says, see you soon
i cross the hall
to the pharmacy
anticipation
slapped on
my face