neck hurts lying supine in living room/ an island dividing young from old/ yet popping xanax (xannies, xans) like mad oedipal adolescence looking for an erasure of memory/ and forgets my age/ 18 years ago remembered me crying babbling/ helplessness/ where’s grandpa?/ and asked about assisted suicide to a doctor who only cared about low-sodium almond milk and hysterectomies/ mrs. marlowe, ask again in oregon/ and she still manages to fall asleep at 10 pm.