It Just Arrived

Waiter, I didn’t order this.
This great big fucking heartache
With the side of endless pain
It just arrived here at my table
to put its dirty feet up on my lap
And looked at me like,
“Yeah bitch, I’m talkin’ to you.”
Ignoring its insolent glare
I tried to go about my business
Sipping tea and reading the daily news.
As soon as my shoulders began to relax into a comfortable slouch-
the instant I dropped my hypervigilance-
forgetting for that brief respite;
that you broke my heart
and dragged it down a gravel road behind your car in the blazing sun;
the very nanosecond I could breathe all the way in,
it leaped from its seat and body slammed me down again
then sat awhile, looking quite pleased.
So, no.
I didn’t order this.
It just arrived.
And no,
I don’t want a fucking doggy bag.