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October 2019 Vol. 15 No. 3

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Richard Grahn

Unstrung

no guide…
I head for the nearest
mirage

My balance is getting worse. It’s one a.m. and I’m in a Walgreens’ parking lot cleaning out my car. Lost my father and girlfriend in one fell swoop two days ago. Have been wandering around in a daze ever since, behaving irrationally. Bought another cell phone for no reason. Stopped by the side of the highway to figure it out. Was confronted by the police. My balance issues weighed heavily against me in the field sobriety test. Was taken into custody, handcuffed, blood tested (tests came back negative for alcohol and drugs), and then let go.

Everything after that is foggy. I remember being detained again the next day. They took me to the emergency room for evaluation. For some reason, I was given a blood transfusion before being released. My credit cards aren’t working since I’ve traveled halfway across the country without telling my bank. Somehow, I was able to buy gas at the pump, but when I went inside to buy a Coke and some Fritos, the transaction failed. This caused all kinds of confusion. Left my card in a gas pump, got kicked out of a convenience store, and now I think I’ve discovered a new blood-pressure test.

ripples on the stream . . .
each breath another moment
flowing by

Now the police have confronted me again.

“I’m just getting rid of some trash, officer. I’m on my way to Maryland.”

Another failed field sobriety test. I’m taken to the hospital. They put me on a stretcher and leave me in a hallway. It’s a very noisy environment, lots of activity. I start screaming. That lands me in a psych hospital. I decide to run for President.


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