I’ve been reading about depression lately,
And the more I read, the more I realize
That the squat orange cardboard box
Towards the back of my bottom self
Has not been baking soda,
But a box of ashes, keeping my fridge
Something sticky spilled years ago
And now I can’t extract the box
Without the bottom ripping off.
It would be messier to remove it,
So I pretend its contents were scooped from
A sandbox I was never allowed to play in
Because my mother said kids shit in it,
And focus on the bright orange packaging,
Like a playground sun
Fitting squarely through monkey bars.
I listened to the Dalai Lama’s talk entitled
Coping With Anxiety During the Pandemic.
I didn’t understand a single word he said,
But he spoke calmly and kindly,
And made me feel as light as a pigeon
Looping around the sock-sandaled feet
Of a murmuring crumb caster.
Best of the Net nominee, Rich Glinnen, enjoys bowling and eating gruyere with his cats at his home in Bayside, New York. His work can be read in Kenneth Warren’s Lakewood House Organ, at foliateoak.com, petrichormag.com, underwoodpress.com/ruescribe, Tumblr, and Instagram. His wife calls him Ho-ho.