Three Poems by Louise Helle, pt 1.
I Really Want a Vicodin
because when there is nothing left to lose
you have to set yourself on fire.
First thought is best thought.
Sometimes a first thought is a borrowed thought.
Sometimes the first thought is a lie.
My first thought is a worried grimace
while words try to unstick themselves
from a freshly painted mind.
What did a thought ever do to ease pain,
false anodyne and a technicolor
commercial break in the brain.
I heard a thought once:
115 pounds and 30mg of oxy
first time; happy talkative
giving happy food and coffee
to you and you and you
later vomiting happy blue-green stomach acid
from a happy gatorade into
a happy shining toilet bowl
thinking happily on tomorrow’s misery
and the happy blade lodged in my brain.