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  • Gary Hunter

Ten Minutes before entering Rehab - July 9, 2023

she’s in the shower

head down dripping with tears

half bottle of rum on the side table

caps off the prescription meds

grabs a towel wipes the mirror

downs a shot cigarette dangling

smoke and steam twist in a silky

samba behind a drawn face

in another room dad waits

as beaten down as a marathoner

near the checkered flag

and out she comes

dark glasses wet hair pulled

back rollaboard rumbling

over the hardwood out the

door into his waiting car

she calls him from her new room

hates the place doubts the treatment

her roommate looks scary

wants so many things she can’t have

dad hangs up with a massive sigh

takes a sip of coffee finally it’s done

turns the first page of the

New York Times without reading

because he knows it’s a marathon

with a finish line that keeps moving

each jogger pulling away from the bad

running for something better

he knows because

his other daughter is still

running in circles


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