Drug Holiday

A physician addresses a close, daily companion and contemplates a holiday. You work so hard, with little thanks, toiling nonstop in the wet heat, the airless dark, weekdays, weekends, a cutthroat job that cuts in half or swallows whole, never ending, unless the boss skips a day, which I never do. So take a break, my trusty pill, some time away from the rugae, that daily grind. Lounge there beneath your foil covers, no need to pop awake today. Forget the race, pushing, tumbling to be first out of the bottle. In short, dear pill, lie where you are before I have a change of heart. To be honest I'm not . . .