I don’t know – has this line even moved? One lady’s spent 20 minutes haggling over a prescription. Five people still in front of me. And I’m hungry. Medication?
Me? I really can’t believe it’s gotten to this point.
I’m sure I could live without them. Tablets for hair loss, sleep, cholesterol and depression. That greasy-haired, head down and foot-dragging guy coming out from a bacon and eggs breakfast at Denny’s could be me. Instead, I’m a drug-addled senior, combing his hair after a good night’s sleep and happily preparing yogurt and granola at home.
I’d take off for IHOP in a hot second if I just hadn’t pictured the hair - compensating by growing it longer to go for a cooler look but end up stepping out of that pancake heaven with oily ringlets, cascading like a dying waterfall from the bleak mountaintop of my head . . . then breeze-swept into a face-covering curtain. . . before it’s raked back with the claw of my hand.
Well, I guess I should wait.Nothing better to do.Should have brought a pen and my writing tablet.Maybe there’s a poem that lurks in here somewhere . . .
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