The Path to Recovery

There are bells ringing. But this is the modern age
And that ringing in my head is the telephone.
You begin to find the conversation strange,
A bed cover not tucked nice and neat, a state of disarray.
"Sorry you couldn't make it, but we talked quite a bit,
Some of it included you." Gossip slipped in and out of it,

Resembling in your mind a nicely dressed waiter, mucho trabajo.
"Actually, you were the highlight of talk...for awhile, at least.

Franklin laughed in response to the report.
He didn't know for sure if this were true,
Or just a form of affection between two bodies
On their way to different agendas, aligned
Roughly at different times, realities that neither seemed to share.

Whatever the case was, he enjoyed the idea
That he was, for a brief while, the center of attention.

He was on his way to get the mail, a blue sky in attendance,
Checking the mail for work. And to check his own,
And when he found the latter box empty,
An image of its emptiness, a washed out used up jelly jar,
Appeared in his mind. It had been empty
The day before. Just like the day before.