There was a low hum in my head, a swarm
of bugs buzzing around while I tried to remain
normal. Mother asked if something was wrong
and I asked why, was I acting weird, which she denied.
My feet were stuck to the ground, it seemed
I drug them through mud just to get to the booth.
All eyes were on me, it seemed—even children
stopped to stare while heading to playroom. Or did they?
I could hardly move my hand to mouth to stuff
chicken nuggets. I chugged Diet Coke, my appetite
gone like the entire bottle of cough medicine
I’d guzzled that morning because I didn’t drink anymore.