Morning Thoughts

If I could just escape this skin.

That’s the problem isn’t it?

Wet footprints lead me back to the psych ward

where my yellow grippy socks stepped

in the puddle beside the leaky toilet.

I walked out in panicked strides a month ago.

Still uncertain I left.

Twice, dreams have taken me back.

Wheel chair rides, code locked doors,

faces of staff painted with disappointment.

The house is cramped.

I share three bedrooms with four pill bottles.

I noticed the back yard this morning, I had forgotten it.

Covered in six foot weeds.

Boxed inside the privacy fence.

I sip an oat milk latte at the local coffee shop.

Alone in the corner where I write,

and read, and protect my eyes from contact.

The espresso cools. I drive the mile back

to the house I bought a year ago.

I hear the call of home. The door to the ER always open.