Pharmaceutical angels hover
in the space above my sleeping head
chanting slogans
they have been paid
to whisper in my ear.

“Keep it clean with Terbenafine.”
“You can fly on Abilify.”
“Everyone’s lean on Levothyroxine.”
“Go on a roll with Anastrazole.”
“You’ll get a thrill from Lisinopril.”
“There ain’t no reputin’ the bliss of Welbutrin.”
“Don’t be a geek. Take Pristiq.”
“Go far on Adderall XR.”
“if you want to rate, take Cypionate.”

I wake with a jolt
the neurons of my prefrontal cortex
already firing like machine guns of craving
for the treasure in my medicine chest
and I know everything is going to be fine,
just fine.