i took notes in a real doctors handwriting
[scribbles with incoherent conclusions]
   every wednesday afternoon until
        the girl next door moved and
           i felt singular for the first time
no one to pretend was sicker than i
no one to help heal
no one to hold my hand in the cul-de-sac

now i've tamed my solitude
[i avoid it at all costs, keep it on a leash]
   every wednesday afternoon until
        i knew it was time for you to move and
           i felt okay for the last time
no one to pretend would stay forever
no one to feel near
no one to hold my hand in the waiting room