Copyright 2000 Rebecca Turner

Jules, I’ve been unable to clear my head.
This is the start of a long process, I’ve taken to my bed.
Jules, this is not that depressing, the fever is slight, it comes and goes.
And, in a way, it’s refreshing, I’m curling and uncurling my toes.

Jules, bet I could get you to visit me. I know that I am a mite contagious;
be that as it may be.
You can just lay down along me, crushing the covers with your jeans.
I will go right on reading. Promise that I won’t make a scene!

I like how it’s a train ride. Mostly, it’s no big deal. But sometimes I get on crying.
And I like being down in the daytime, with no place to be: specificity.

Jules, this is not how I usually am.
In the week, I’m a freak, shoulder-monster girl comes at you!
True, when I begged for the doctor, that must have scared you, but come on!
Tears are delicious and righteous. What doesn’t kill you makes you strong.

Jules, half awake, dream of stealing bracelets from Macy’s.