I assumed that where buildings ended
The sky began. Intimidated by that conception
I stared at the ground while I walked;
During one such stare I discovered pills
Scattered about on sidewalk. I pinched one of the pills
Studied its oval frame. A numerical imprint
Was inscribed across its body.
After researching the numbers
I learned the pills were Lithium.
My friend Martha was prescribed Lithium.
She claimed the pills made her fat.
“Mood stabilizers will do that.”
I assumed space was finite.
White people locate problems to fit in.
Humans adapt to populist theories
When it’s assumed that the sky ends.
I tell them that forever will be a long day.
We tend to disagree, and when I sleep on sidewalk
It’s next to Lithium. I want to die as a pill,
But nobody will swallow me.